The Black Swan
by Trishala Vardhan
Summary: Odette Slessor was a normal girl with a deadly secret-until she finds out every monster on Earth is after her. Flung into a dangerous, cruel world which she cannot escape, Odette must rely on three strange men to help her. So begins her journey.
1. All We Have Is Now

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters; neither do I seek to publish this for any monetary gain. I'm merely playing with them. ;)**

**Author's Note: This is my own version of Supernatural, with one new character. The story follows Odette Slessor, a normal girl pulled into the paranormal world, and Dean and Sam Winchester. There are going to be four main characters: Odette, Castiel, Dean and Sam. That's right; Castiel will be in the story from the beginning. All episodes from season one through to season seven will be featured. This is my first story, so please go easy on me. Review, review, review, please! Before I forget, I published this in Quizilla under the penname gothika7evanescence, also known as Selena.**

**Title borrowed from the song by The Flaming Lips **

This is in third person.

CHAPTER ONE- ALL WE HAVE IS NOW

"Tell me again, angel, why are we here?" The man with the light brown hair and deep green eyes grumbled. A heavy sigh from the large Sasquatch with chocolate hair and hazel eyes only worsened his mood.

The third man, or rather angel, with the messy brown hair and blue gaze looked at him expressionlessly. "Dean, I told you we're here because of the girl, remember? And because-"

He was cut off by an irritated grunt from Dean. "So let me get this straight, you get a message from Big Ol' Daddy upstairs, which by the way, was relayed to you by another angel with freaking _hedge clippers, _that this case is important for all of us little humans and you especially, and the girl with 'dark hair and green glass eyes' is vital for our future?"

_"Yes. _That is correct." Sarcasm, as usual, flew over the angel's head. No pun intended.

"Let him know I appreciate the effort, huh Angel Boy? Real poetic, that was."

_"Dean,"_ his hazel-eyed brother hissed in warning. But it was too late.

The angel whipped his head around, slamming Dean against the wall. "You would do well to show me some respect, Dean Winchester. If I pulled you out of Hell, I can throw you back in. Let me make myself clear. You do _not _insult Father, and you would do well not to insult me. My name is _Castiel_. Use it."

"The girl is _crucial_," he stressed the word, "For your future, for Sam's," he jerked his head in the direction of Dean's Sasquatch-sized companion, who was vainly trying to pull Castiel off of Dean.

Castiel's eyes were fierce. "God did not give me a message. He gave me an order. Am I understood?"

Dean nodded dumbly; the angel had severed his air supply.

"Good." Castiel released Dean, who fell to the floor, gasping for breath. He threw him a dirty look as an angry Sam pulled him up.

"Fine then,_ Castiel_," Dean sneered around his name. "There's gotta be at least a thousand girls in this snob's paradise with dark hair and green eyes. How are you gonna find the right one?"

He was answered by a calm: "I will know once I_ see _her, Dean."

"Great," he snorted. "Angel mojo extraordinaire." Sam coughed, evidently afraid of another scuffle.

"Why don't we focus on the case, first? It's relatively easy. We can finish the thing while Castiel," he eyed the angel nervously, "finds the, um, girl."

"I am fine with this plan as well." Castiel stated gravely.

"Wonderful." Dean rolled his eyes. "Can't believe I'm freezing my butt off for a bloody salt and burn."

Sam finally cracked. "For the love of God, Dean, shut _up_! Can you focus on the friggin' case for five minutes and get your head out of your sorry butt? Stop pestering us, goddamn it!"

Dean blinked. Sam had bitchface #34 on, the _grumble one more time and I will clock you one _that never failed to amuse him.

"Whatever, Samantha. No need to get your panties in a wad."

Sam's answering growl made Dean grin. Smugly.

He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Let's go find Wonder Girl!"


	2. The Impulse

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

**Next chapter is up!**

**Again, chapter name borrowed from The Flaming Lips. **

(Castiel PoV)

CHAPTER TWO- THE IMPULSE

"All right, so this Amy Sutton kid was murdered six months ago, and she's been wasting other girls since then, right?"

Dean peered over Sam's shoulder at the laptop. "Looks like it," his brother answered.

"Point is, why would anybody murder Amy, anyway? She was just a 14-year-old kid. I can't believe anybody would hate her so much to send her off the deep end." Sam continued.

"Not the problem, Sammy. We just need to burn Psycho Girl. Simple as that."

"Maybe you should ask her friends. They might know something." I suggested, standing in the dingy motel room.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Castiel, the murderer's been caught. All we need to do is torch the thing. Why ask anybody?"

Sam interrupted. "Actually, it's not a half-bad idea. We should see her family first. It might help if we knew _why_ she's so violent."

Dean sighed then. "Fine then. Let's go see Psycho Girl's parents. Meanwhile," he fixed me with a sardonic look, "You can go searching around Maine for Wonder Girl with your angelic little feelers. Call if you feel the vibe."

I could sense the skepticism rolling off of him in waves.

"She's here, Dean. I _will_ find her." He shrugged.

Sam shook his head. "Dean, please. I think we might need to do this. Might need _her_. You've just come back from Hell, God knows you'd take a chance to be happy if you saw it."

Dean's eyes softened slightly. Grudgingly, he answered, "Alright, Sammy, I'll give it a shot. But I swear, if it's some floozy I'll-"

I cut him off. "If you've finally agreed to this, stop mocking the girl. She doesn't even know who we are or what she is."

His hands flew up in the air. "Easy, tiger!" Sam dragged him out of the room before he could say anything else.

I too, turned on the spot and landed in the motel parking lot.

I knew it was a daunting task. To search through thousands of humans in a concentrated area for just one girl was difficult, to say the least. But the Lord had commanded it, and the Lord I would obey.

It was Joshua who told me, he was the only angel God would talk to. But the intent was clear. The girl, whoever she was, was special, extraordinary, and vital for Dean and Sam's future. For _my_ future. She had to be found.

So I walked. I walked through the sea of faces and bodies and buildings in this cruelly beautiful land they called Earth. Every time I saw a girl with black or brown hair and green eyes, I would hope. And every time, a little voice in my head would whisper: _Not her._ But I kept on searching. I searched until my eyes grew weary of man. I wandered until the sky purpled into the dusky night and the cool kiss of the wind turned impossibly bitter and cold. The stars flashed distantly, creating the familiar pang in my heart. They reminded me of Heaven. Home. In the end I was forced to admit defeat and return to Dean and Sam.

The shorter Winchester grinned cockily at me. "Find the girl of our dreams, Castiel?"

I stared at him. "Not today." Sam cleared his throat loudly, and said, "We didn't get anything helpful from Amy's parents. "

"Yeah, they seemed like zombies." Dean rolled his eyes. I simply looked at him.

"We did get the address of Amy's best friend, though. Apparently, they were like sisters." Sam's eyes flitted to the clock. "We can still go. It's only 7:00 PM."

"You should come." Dean turned to me. "Psycho's friend is a girl and all. You never know, she might be 'the one'."

I looked at him dispassionately. "She just might." I agreed calmly.

Beside me, Sam's lips twitched. I did not understand the cause, or the reason why Dean huffed irritatedly.

Instead, I transported myself to the monstrosity that was Dean's car. I could never understand why Dean loved it so much. It was a rusty, inanimate object that wheezed and growled and stank of oil. I slid in, nonetheless as the Winchesters joined me.

The car emitted a snarl as Dean revved the engine. Sam gave me an amused look. A sizable amount of time later, we reached the appropriate place.

Sam exhaled heavily. "This is it. Palm Avenue, 66th from Elm Street."

Dean elbowed him in the ribs. "Get it, Sam? _Elm_ Street."

He snorted and got out. Dean followed, tugging on the lapels of his suit.

My lips pressed into a thin line. I disapproved of lying. We should have told the ghost's parents the truth. Now, we were going to lie to the girl, too. But humans were strange, and Dean and Sam were adamant about it.

I had flatly refused to wear anything else but my vessel's clothes. I was not going to pretend to be a person I wasn't.

We were standing in front of a white, colonial house. It was big, light and airy, and graceful. The garden was pretty and well kept, almost like it was picture-perfect.

Dean let out a long, low, whistle. "Kid is_ loaded_. This is one lucky 14 year old."

"C'mon, Castiel, Dean, let's go." Sam stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell.

Then the girl stepped out. And I forgot everything else.

Dean and Sam stiffened on either side of me. I knew why.

I couldn't give them an answer, though. I was struck dumb.

I could see, and sense and _feel _the girl's soul around me. And it was unbelievable. It was so sweet, so warm, so _vibrant, _positively thrumming with life. It shone with light, and hope and innocence and above all, _love_. Utter, complete, encompassing love like I'd never felt before. She shimmered with it, with every good thing I'd ever felt. It was like I'd returned home, to Heaven. If any human deserved to be an angel, it was she. She was so _pure_; as if she was touched by Father himself. But for all that, she wasn't _happy._

I could sense it in her. That this _child_, (was she not one?) knew of suffering, and pain, and hurt and _heartbreak_.

I could hear Dean and Sam's thoughts.

_My God, she's beautiful_. I agreed.

_She's only fourteen and she's stunning..._

_I've never seen anyone like her._ Neither had I.

Her soul shone through her, reflecting in how she looked, the way she _was._ It was there in her long, dark, glossy brown hair, in the way it fell down past her back in soft, silky, shining waves.

There, in the smooth, creamy paleness of her skin, in the wild rose hue to her cheeks.

There in her cherry red, Cupid's bow lips that formed a perfect double curve as she looked at us in confusion.

She shivered, probably because of the cold, as she saw us on her porch. She was only wearing a sleeveless red top that fit her snugly, accentuating the curves of her waist. White knee-length shorts on her slim legs fluttered in the breeze.

She gripped the doorframe with thin, elegant arms, her slender body shuddering again.

You could see what she was in her features, in her high cheekbones and straight nose, in eyelashes that glistened as if they'd been coated in oil, smoky and so long they touched her cheek. In eyebrows like upraised wings, in her swanlike neck.

But it was the eyes that did it. Wide, doe eyes that were a lush, sea green. They glimmered with loss and hope and sorrow and compassion and so much grief that didn't belong on a face so young. And again, _love_. I could sense it. She was so _gentle_. Her eyes were fixed on me the entire time, and they held a sweet, intense sort of sorrowful fragility that was so forlorn.

She was breath taking, this strange girl I'd found, and more exquisitely beautiful than any angel, woman or she-creature I'd ever seen.

The brothers were looking at me now, almost panicked, and I nodded, answering their unspoken question.

They paled. Sam looked happy while Dean's face held only shock.

I turned my eyes to the girl again, and in my head the voice spoke. It was little no longer, strong and loud and crystal clear.

_**It's her.**_


	3. Do You Realize?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

**So, chapter three is up! Let me explain the story- Castiel shows himself straight from season one- I know, it's flawed, but bear with me, and Odette's the main character, along with the rest. All the episodes will be featured, but I'll probably cheat and cut out a few and add my own. :P**

**Most importantly- review people! I'm begging here. Flames, compliments, anything- just review, please!**

**The Flaming Lips. Again. **

CHAPTER THREE- DO YOU REALIZE?

(Odette PoV)

I scribbled out the last answer. Finally. All my work was complete. I hated Math, and Miss Augustine even more, but my GPA was a perfect 5.0 and it was going to stay that way. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. This was my life now. I had to get used to it. An all too familiar throb started in my chest. I wanted to go _home_.

I wanted to hit myself. It would do no good to dwell on the past. I'd made my choice and I would stick to it. I still thought it was the right one. _This is your home now, _I told myself sternly. If only I could believe it.

Just then, the doorbell rang. I was puzzled. It was getting late, almost 7:30 in the evening, who would come to see me?

I reluctantly left the comfort of my electric blanket and padded out the front door, peering outside. There were three men on my porch, all staring at me as if they'd seen a ghost. The first one had light brown hair and green eyes. He was very handsome, and his eyes were trained on me. The one next to him was tall, very tall, like Sasquatch, and equally attractive, what with his shaggy brown hair and hazel eyes which were again, turned on me. They were both wearing suits, I noticed. But it was the man in the middle who unnerved me.

His cobalt eyes bored into me, thick, spiky black hair falling onto them. He was tall, maybe as tall as the hazel-eyed one and pale-skinned. He, unlike the others, was wearing a tan trenchcoat and a white shirt and pants. I would have thought him an accountant except for the way he looked. He was beautiful, in the way I imagined only a seraph would look. Everything from his aquiline nose to his full lips was perfect. Flawless. If I'd believed in angels, I would've thought him one. His expression was stern, severe; revealing nothing of what he was feeling as he gazed at me. I was laid bare under his stare, oddly exposed, as if he could see my soul. I shuddered under the intensity of his gaze. It was as if he could read my mind, as if he knew the very_ essence_ of me. I could sense it in him. Something fierce and implacable and warlike; those made me think he was something _more._

He cocked his head to one side, staring fixedly at me. And like a bird locked in the gaze of a snake, I couldn't look away.

For the second time that day, I mentally kicked myself. Here I was, on my porch, gawking at three men, who were gawking right back at me, if that were any comfort. I spared the two in suits a glance. They seemed to notice, and flipped out their wallets so I could see their badges. The green-eyed man held it aloft. "Agent Smith, FBI. This-" he indicated the one with hazel eyes, "Is Agent Johnson."

"I am Castiel." The last man said in a deep, flat monotone. I probably would have asked for more from him, but he was far, far too intimidating. Instant uneasiness flooded in.

"Am I in any trouble?" I asked, fingers flying to the locket, _his _locket, as they always did when I was nervous or upset. "No, of course not, nothing like that." Agent Johnson spread his hands in a placating gesture.

"We'd just like you to answer a few questions." Agent Smith followed up. I swallowed, edging the door open. "Alright then, come on in." I led them into the living room. "Please sit. Can I get you guys anything?"

"Coffee would be great." I stepped into the kitchen and whipped up the coffee in a few minutes, bringing it out on a silver tray. The agents took it immediately and started drinking, while Castiel simply stared at his intently, as if he'd never seen it before.

"What's your name?" he suddenly spoke, making me jump.

"I'm Odette. Odette Slessor." I smiled tentatively at them. They did not return it.

"Where are your parents, Odette?" Agent Johnson looked at me quizzically.

"I don't live with my parents," the pang started in my heart again. I stubbornly beat it down. Smith and Johnson blinked rapidly at me. Castiel's face did not change.

"Anyway, what did you want to ask me?" I hastily changed the subject.

"It's about your friend Amy, the one who died. We want to know if she was upset, scared, maybe even angry, before she was murdered." Agent Smith waited for an answer.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I don't understand why you're asking me all this. Hasn't the murderer been caught?

"That's classified information. Please. It's important." He continued smoothly. I looked at him some more, and then complied.

"You have to understand. Amy was bullied, picked on a lot in school. Not many people liked her. She was shy, and simple. She always wanted to be popular. She never got the chance. Amy was gentle, nice. But there was always a part of her that was discontent, insecure, and angry. As far as I know, there was no change in her behavior before she...died."

I looked away. "I see." Agent Johnson nodded then stood up. The other two followed suit. "Thank you for your time, Odette. We're sorry for bothering you." And just like that, they were gone, leaving me staring after them.

**Reviews are love!**


	4. Okay, I'll Admit That I Don't Understand

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

**Chapter four is up, too! A little Dean-esque chapter for ya! Review, please!**

**You guessed it, The Flaming Lips. **

CHAPTER FOUR- OKAY, I'LL ADMIT THAT I REALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND

(Dean PoV)

When I gave Odette the name 'Wonder Girl', I hadn't meant it literally. It was sarcasm, for pete's sake! But the description fit her to a hair. Gotta love the irony.

She'd given us the info about her psycho best friend rather reluctantly, I'd noticed, but hey, who actually liked Feds? I sure didn't. But back to when I first saw her. When _we_ first saw her.

Kid was beautiful. 14 and the most stunning girl I'd ever seen (and probably would ever see) with that long, glossy hair, pouty lips and porcelain skin. She had one of those figures like you see on the front page of SI. Yeah, _that_ good. And to top it all off, she had these big, doe eyes in a pretty shade of sea green. Major overkill.

Sam was gaping like a fish. (Couldn't really blame him. I had a hard time not staring myself). Mr. Holy Tax Accountant (otherwise known as Castiel) was working his usual granite wall impersonation, but I could tell he was shell-shocked. I found myself searching for some kind of flaw (stupid, I know) in her and the only thing I came up with was that she was small. Like 5'4 or something. And it wasn't even much of one, 'cuz Odette? Yeah, she was _petite._

And when she spoke, (am I in any trouble) even her friggin' _voice _was all silvery and bell-like. Holy cow. And she was just so freaking _sweet. _Shy and timid, and oh to hell with it all. I should've been mad. Should've been an ornery, grouchy prick to this girl, but I wasn't. I couldn't. I'd been dragged all the way to snobby, cold Maine for this girl, and I wasn't even miffed at her.

So we asked her the questions (Sam and I did, Castiel just sat and stared at his coffee cup) and then got the hell outta there. We needed (at least I did) to wrap our heads around 'the miracle'. Back at the motel, things began to get...interesting.

Pretty Boy Angel looked like he'd just seen God, (yeah, like _that'll_ ever happen) and been hit on the head with a crowbar. Repeatedly. You can take your pick. He was babbling like some sort of lovesick fool. Something about warmth and vibrance and sweetness (again with the sweet!). And a lot more about light, hope, innocence, etc. Dude kept on muttering about purity and exquisiteness and beauty and blah blah blah. I think he even mentioned Cupid's bow in there somewhere. Sounded as if he'd been hitting the happy juice. Hard. I probably would have had a good laugh if I hadn't known Mr. Trenchcoat was high on whatever vibes the girl was giving off. He seemed like he'd come straight out of Romeo and Juliet. Yup, _that_ bad.

Sam wasn't much better. He was gibbering, too. About gentleness and compassion and beauty and a whole lot of other twaddle. Part of me was wondering how he knew, but my brother had always been a bit of a Dr. Phil, so I wasn't really surprised.

Being the only person in the room who hadn't lost his marbles, I told Sam we were going to burn Psycho Girl. Pronto.

Then Castiel dropped the bomb on us when I asked him why he was still here. We were his _charges_. Yup, that's right, Odette included. Apparently the kid was like a magnet for monsters, since she was born, practically. So were we, in a way. He made it clear, though, Odette was his priority. Dick.

I wanted to bash his face in, but all that would've gotten me was a broken hand. Believe me, I'd tried when he hadn't told me why we were his charges. All he'd said was that those were his orders from Heaven and he didn't know anymore than I did.

So now, we were stuck with the angel. So was Odette, even if she didn't know it. Sam was pleased. I knew why, I suppose. He thought the girl would make everything all right and now we had heavenly backup. I was not pleased, I _so _wasn't.

I would've been a lot happier if that were actually true. An hour later, we were in the cemetery, digging up Psycho's bones. I was the one shoveling up dirt, while Sam stood by like the girl he was. He glared at me, then, guessing my thoughts. The holy tax accountant stood by on one side. Why he'd decided to come with us was a mystery, but I let it slide. Wouldn't want to peeve the nerd angel, oh no.

I could finally see the casket when it happened.

_"Jesus Christ."_

We were so screwed.


	5. Can't Exist

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :D**

**On with it, shall we?**

**Another thing- this is in Sam's PoV, and while I like Sam well enough, I don't like writing in his point of view. I hope the quality of the chapter remains the same. :)**

**The Flaming Lips. **

CHAPTER FIVE- CAN'T EXIST

It was working out pretty well, all things considered. That is, before the incident at the cemetery. I mean, how often do you get a guardian angel? Not very often, that's for sure. I knew Odette was his priority, but we were _all_ his charges, so to speak. Which brings us back to the subject of the girl.

Odette. Undoubtedly the most beautiful girl I'd ever laid eyes on. With her shining eyes and glossy hair and slender body, she could have passed as an angel. I'd only gotten a vague sense of her soul, her identity, but it had been more than enough to leave me speechless. She was, by far, the purest, gentlest, sweetest kid I'd ever had the privilege to meet.

Dean, of course, was being an idiot about the whole situation, which granted, was bizarre. He'd flatly refused to try and co-operate with Castiel, and had gone out of his way to antagonize him. That, of course, had ended up with him pinned against the wall. So what if he didn't know why Dean was saved from Hell? Insulting a being that could swat you like a fly in a second is generally not a good idea. Dean'd seen Odette himself, and he was angry because he couldn't _be_ angry with the girl. My brother, to put it mildly, is a complex individual.

But back to the cemetery. The case was a simple salt and burn, nothing special. Castiel had chosen to accompany us, though I didn't see any reason for it. We didn't have any idea how to deal with Odette, so Dean had decided to burn the girl first. Part of me was guilty, because I knew Odette would have to leave her home and her friends behind. Any semblance of a normal life was gone for her now. But if what Castiel said was true, she had to be protected. I knew Dean felt the same way, but he was averse to the idea of bringing her along with us. Truthfully? I think he liked Odette, and that made him even more ornery. Dean was almost through to the casket when we heard a horrified "Jesus Christ!" Things kinda snowballed after that.

You see, Odette was standing in front of us, looking like she'd seen a, well, a ghost. "I'm calling the police," was the first thing she said. She flipped out her phone (was that a Blackberry?) and started dialing. Her fingers were trembling. Dean and I slowly held our hands up in the air. I jerked my head at Castiel to do the same.

"We can explain," I told her calmly, hands still raised.

"Explain what? You digging up the corpse of my best friend, is that it?" She wasn't going to listen, I could tell. "What are you, grave robbers?"

"I-" Dean tried to get a word in edgewise.

"You're not really Feds, are you?" Odette was backing away slowly now, afraid.

I looked at Dean. This one was _so_ his. He glared at me, and then turned to Odette.

"All right, we'll level with you. Just give us five minutes to explain, then if you still think we're lying, you can call whoever the hell you want." He looked at her.

She crossed her arms. An invitation. So he began.

"My brother and I- we hunt monsters. Ghosts, werewolves, poltergeists, demons, you name it. We have since we were maybe twelve. We came here because your friend Amy's become a ghost and is killing people in Maine."

For one whole minute, Odette just stared at us. Then she slowly shook her head. "You guys are insane. You need help." Her hand inched towards her phone (it was definitely a Blackberry). Then Castiel got in on the act.

"We don't have time for this." He brushed past Dean and I, going up to Odette. Very close to Odette.

He didn't say anything. Not one word. So, you might be wondering what exactly he did do. Just one thing.

Castiel unfurled his wings. Just because I'd already seen them didn't make it any less awe-inspiring.

They were wide, huge and black, in simple terms. Feathery and jagged at the ends, it made him look truly warlike. Apparently, Odette felt the same way. Her eyes widened in shock. But then she did something that surprised all of us. She reached up and touched them.

To say Castiel looked _surprised_ would be the understatement of the century. He looked as if he'd been doused with cold water. He jerked back and Odette drew her hand away as if it had been scalded. "Sorry," she whispered. "Just needed to see if they were real." Dean snorted in disbelief next to me.

She turned her gaze on us, then. "I guess I owe you guys an apology, then. I'm sorry I called you insane, it just seemed so far-fetched that..." she trailed off.

"Don't mention it." Dean snickered. "Would you let us burn the body now?"

She tore her eyes from Castiel's wings and looked at Amy's grave. "Um, yeah, I guess." The reluctance was clear in her voice.

"Finally!" Dean rolled his eyes and walked away. I frowned after him. It wouldn't kill him to be a little nicer. It was then that Amy made her appearance.

"Traitor!" the girl with blonde hair and brown eyes hissed. Things happened very fast after that.

She launched herself at Odette, sending her flying into a gravestone. Castiel pulled her off of Odette, keeping her pinned down while Dean frantically dug out the casket.

I pulled Odette to her feet, pushing her behind me. She peered around my shoulder as Castiel struggled with Amy, dragging her down to the ground. The ghost was spitting out a hell of a lot of cuss words, which I was mildly surprised to hear from a 14 year old.

Amy snarled, punching Castiel in the jaw. It didn't affect him in the least. She kicked and struggled, while Castiel looked like he was doing nothing more strenuous than sipping tea.

Dean was sloshing gasoline over Amy's half-decomposed body by this time. Psycho Girl's writhing intensified, impossibly, but Castiel's hold was unbreakable. Then finally, finally, Dean set fire to the girl's bones. Amy let out a dreadful shriek:" IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, ODETTE!" and then disintegrated.

I could feel Odette shaking behind me. She hesitantly moved forward, staring at the burning body, her face stricken.

"You all right, kid?" Dean's voice seemed to break her out of her reverie. "Took a pretty hard hit there."

"I'm f-fine," her voice quavered. "A few bruises, that's all." Odette winced.

She continued to look at the flickering tongues of yellow and orange covering what was left of Amy's body.

"It wasn't really Amy talking, you know," I told her gently. She sniffed.

"Yeah, I know."

"You'll be leaving now, I suppose?" She was looking at us now.

"About that," Dean rubbed his head awkwardly.

Castiel interceded. "There are demons, monsters, after you. Haven't you noticed? Since you were young? Strange men and women that would follow you? Ravens that would stay near your window and never leave? That the people had black eyes, maybe red?"

She spluttered incoherently. "How d-did you k-know?"

"Believe me, I know the signs. You're being hunted." Castiel's face was grim.

"You won't be safe here." Dean's expression matched the angel's.

"Come with us. We can protect you." I urged.

Castiel nodded. "It's why we really came here. To get _you_."

Odette blanched. "Why me? I haven't done anything! What about my school and-"

"All that won't matter if you're dead." My brother cut her off. She paled.

_"Dean,"_ I hissed, angry. She was just a kid.

He did look a bit ashamed.

"We can't force you," I said. "Why don't you take some time to decide, call us tomorrow." I scribbled out my number on a loose scrap of paper. "Here."

Odette took it hesitantly, slipping it into her pocket. "Thanks." She looked at the others uncertainly. "I guess you guys saved my life today. Thank you, really, for that."

Her eyes sought Castiel's. "You won't force me?" And just for a second, I could see how close to breaking she really was. I glared at Dean, who had the decency to look regretful.

She was staring at Castiel.

"No." He answered. She nodded, looking at us one last time. Then she walked away.


	6. The Ceiling Is Bendin'

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

**From now on, most chapters will be in Odette's PoV, or maybe Castiel's.**

CHAPTER SIX- THE CEILING IS BENDIN'

If I was being honest with myself, I think I'd already known what my choice would be when I'd walked away from the cemetery. I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

Dazed, I went back to my house, curling into a ball on my couch, numb.

I took a shaky breath, trying to digest all the impossible things that had just happened.

Monsters were after me. Amy had become a ghost and murdered all the girls who had died this month. I was being hunted. The beautiful man I'd seen tonight had wings. Ghosts, werewolves, demons were real.

My head spun. I breathed in slow, concentrated gasps. I couldn't break down. Not now.

I was faced with two choices- stay in Maine and live a normal life...until the monsters ended it, or give up my education, my friends, my house, all to go with three strange men whose names I wasn't even sure were real.

I gripped the soft foam under me tightly. The decision was hard.

If I stayed here, my death was certain. The men had been clear on that.

Castiel's (if that really was his name) words echoed in my head. _"Trust me, I know the signs. You're being hunted."_

_"We came here to get __**you**__." _The other agents (were they even FBI?) had said the same.

_"All that won't matter if you're dead."_

_"Come with us. We can protect you."_

If I went with them, would I really be safe? They hunted the supernatural themselves. What if I was caught in the crossfire?

I looked at the purple bruises blossoming on my abdomen.

Bruises Amy had put. _Amy_, my best _friend_. If they hadn't been there, I would be dead. I owed them a phone call, at least, even if I wasn't going.

Was I going? Would I really be safe?

Then I remembered Castiel. Amy'd been kicking and struggling so hard, but he looked completely unaffected. She'd punched him, and he hadn't moved a muscle.

There was something about him I couldn't quite place. He had that quiet aura of power and danger that had me unsettled. It was as if he was tensed, ready for battle, at any second.

I looked around the room. If I wanted to face facts, I'd have to face the biggest.

I was living a half-life here. Maine was beautiful, I knew that, but it wasn't _home._ I'd left my home far, far away, and it was somewhere I could never return.

I was numbly going through my life here, perfect grades, perfect reputation, and a cookie cutter life, except for the main catch. I wasn't _living_, just _being_. I wasn't _happy_. Truth be told, I was miserable, living like a robot, remembering everything I'd left behind, everything I'd lost, and everything I could never have.

_He_ was gone. I'd made sure of that. I shuddered; I couldn't let myself remember. Not this. And then something clicked.

The way he'd changed, _turned_, the _thing_ that had taken him, it all made sense now. It had been after _me._ And he'd gotten in the way.

It hadn't been his fault; I'd known that from the very beginning. And now I knew. It was mine; all mine. My entire fault. And now he was never coming back. I'd made certain of that.

"My fault," I whispered, "All mine. I'm so, so _sorry_," my voice broke on the last word. And then I couldn't hold it in any longer.

I sobbed, then, rocking to and fro. The tears flowed, hot and wet, like the guilt that welled up inside me, seeping out from under my eyelids, proof of my shame. All the tears in the world wouldn't absolve this.

I cried for _him_, for what we had, for my dreams, the kind of life we'd had, the family I'd had. I cried for _us._

It was all gone now. Dissipated, evaporated into nothingness. Gone. Gone. Gone.

My tears slowed, gradually, bit by bit, until they stopped altogether. I wiped away the last of them.

I couldn't let it happen again. Couldn't let somebody else get in the middle of whatever was after me. I couldn't be that selfish. I wouldn't put myself before the others. My friends, my teachers, everyone I knew, they were in danger now. Solely because of me.

I looked at the clock. I'd wept the night away; the sun was out now, the sky a pinkish-gold with streaks of red. I had a lot to do.

It was 8:00 AM. Almost time for school. I looked at the number that had been given to me and brought out my phone. I'd made my choice.

I knew what I had to do.


	7. Silver Trembling Hands

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :D**

**This is a filler chapter, the kinds that are necessary, but boring, so bear with me, and the action will pick right back up in Chapter Eight.**

**On with it, shall we?**

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER SEVEN- SILVER TREMBLING HANDS

"Hello?" The hazel-eyed man picked up on the first ring. I paused, what was I supposed to say?

"Is this Odette?" was his next question.

"Yes. It's me." I could hear him inhale at the other end of the line.

"What have you decided?" I closed my eyes, steeling myself.

"I'll come with you." Five simple words. Yet they meant the end of my life, as I knew it.

He huffed in relief. "That's great, Odette. We can protect you. We'll keep you safe." I could hear someone grumbling in the background. It was probably the one with brown hair; he didn't seem to like me. I cringed; I'd bothered them enough as it was; yet they still wanted to help.

"When do you want us to come by?" I held my breath.

"Would you guys mind coming at 5:00 PM? I'm sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, but I've got a lot of loose ends to tie up."

"Not at all, Odette. Take your time. We'll see you then." He hung up, and I realized I didn't even know his name.

I rose from the couch, heading to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy. I'd always looked soft, fragile, somehow, not strong, dependable, the way I wanted to be.

I sighed and shook my head. I knew exactly how weak I was. Last night had only cemented that.

Showering quickly, I brushed my teeth and changed into a pullover and jeans.

I hurriedly grabbed a cereal bar and paused in the kitchen. It was almost ten, and I had too much to do.

The first thing on my agenda would be to pack. It was slow, monotonous work.

By the time the clock struck one, three large suitcases were standing in the foyer. A separate bag consisted of my toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, makeup, iPad, iPod, Blackberry and a few of my favorite books.

I shoved my laptop into its case, along with my modem.

I surveyed the room. I would have to go to the bank now.

I balked at the thought. I never liked going. But I had to.

I made sure everything was in order and received my credit cards. I glanced at the clock. It was three.

This would be the most difficult. School was almost out now, but the teachers would still be there. I needed to notify them that I was quitting.

I wouldn't miss my life in Maine, but I would miss my friends. I walked all the way to the school, gathering myself for what I was about to do.

Mrs. Pennyfeather was the one who saw me first.

"Odette? Why did you skip today? We missed you in class."

"I'm leaving, Mrs. P, going back home." She pinched her nose.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Odette. If you're leaving, you'll need to fill out the withdrawal form. Come with me."

I followed her out to the registration office, where she handed me the papers. I filled them out, one by one, until I asked her: "Mrs. P, do you think I could sign up for the correspondence course?"

She gave me an odd look. "Won't you be joining another school when you go back home?"

I shrugged casually. "What can I say? I like this school too much to completely leave it."

_Please say yes_, I pleaded silently. She smiled. "Alright then, go ahead."

I scribbled in my name and details in the form. "Well, you're all set," Mrs. Pennyfeather patted my shoulder.

"Thank you, Mrs. P" I managed a smile, and all but ran out the door.

I raced back to my house, sweaty and exhausted. It was four.

I showered again, keeping on the same clothes. I carefully outlined my eyes, making sure last night's breakdown was not apparent in my appearance.

I heaved the suitcases out onto the porch, along with my two bags. It was 4:59 PM.

I sat on the steps with my head in my hands. I was leaving. Leaving everything I'd ever known behind, leaving Maine, leaving school. But I wasn't leaving home.

I had to remember that. I would miss my friends, but not the pre-programmed life I'd been leading here.

I wouldn't miss this. My head snapped up at the distinct growl of an engine.

They were here.


	8. A Spoonful Weighs A Ton

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :D**

**Well, things are starting to get interesting. :P**

**On with it, shall we?**

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER EIGHT- A SPOONFUL WEIGHS A TON

They were here.

My head snapped up and I rose, uncertain of what to do or say.

I headed unsteadily down the steps. They got out, and for a minute, we just stared at each other, not sure how to proceed.

The green-eyed man coughed awkwardly. "Uh, how 'bout we start with introductions?"

He held out his hand. "I'm Dean Winchester."

I shook it hesitantly. His grip was firm, and I could feel his roughened, callused hands. "Nice to meet you."

He smirked at me. It wasn't a smile, but at least he didn't seem to be angry with me today. My answering smile was tentative.

The shaggy-haired one came forward. "I'm Sam Winchester. Dean's my brother."

"Older brother," Dean supplied.

I shook Sam's hand and smiled timidly at him. I wasn't sure what they thought of me. I was only a kid, after all.

His grin relieved me. "Nice to meet you too."

But then my eyes turned to Castiel and I froze. Any relief I'd felt after shaking Sam's hand instantly fled. The mental image of him with his wings spread out on either side, imperious and beautiful, had me swallowing nervously.

He too, held out his hand, and I grasped it, noting it was cool and firm, more nervous than any other time in my life.

I desperately tried not to gulp. "I am Castiel, angel of the Lord."

His tone held absolutely no expression, neither did his face, just like before.

My hand slithered out of his and I blinked twice. Hard.

"Angel?" I spluttered, nonplussed.

"Yes." His face remained stony.

"OK." I squeaked, trying to wrap my head around it. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, the kind of beauty and sternness I'd seen in him wasn't exactly human.

After all, hadn't I thought he looked like an angel the first time I saw him?

"OK," I said again, a little higher than I usually spoke. "Hi."

"Hello." His voice was a smooth, deep, bass. Castiel didn't smile, but his face wasn't quite so severe as it had been a minute ago.

"You'd best give me your luggage to shrink."

My mouth opened slightly. "I'm sorry, did you just say you want to um, shrink my luggage?"

"That's correct." He looked at me deliberately. "The boys don't have space for more than one suitcase, they say, and yours," his gaze roved over onto the porch, "Are quite large."

I blushed a deep shade of pink. "Uh," I shifted aside. I watched as Castiel stared at the suitcases as if they were some new life form he'd created. And suddenly, they were stacked on top of each other, the size of small pincushions.

My eyes popped wide as Castiel gathered them in his arms and disappeared from view, presumably to deposit them in the car.

"How're those bruises, kid?" Dean looked at me, head on one side.

"Sore." I smiled at him again.

He nodded. "Takes 'em a week to start fading. Some best friend you had. Threw you like a boomerang."

My smile faded. "I was wondering about that, too."

Sam glared at Dean. It was then that Castiel reappeared.

"Everything's ready. We can go."

I looked at all three of them, then. "Thank you. I appreciate what you're doing for me, I really do. I doubt you're going to enjoy lugging a 14-year old kid around while you hunt monsters." I turned to Sam, who seemed the least intimidating.

I swallowed hard. "But I want you to reconsider. I'm going to be a liability to you. I won't be of any help at all. I'm not strong. I don't know how to hunt. I'll understand if you guys change your mind."

They stared at me for one long minute. Then Dean threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"She's a regular Mary Sue, isn't she, Sammy?" He chortled, glancing at me, half-amused, half-derisive. "We don't mind at all, kid. I'll be in the car." He looked at me amusedly and walked on ahead.

"So," Sam rocked back on his heels. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm all right." I managed a watery smile. At the disbelief clearly written on his face, I added: "Under the circumstances."

The guilt washed over me again, instinctive and strong, but I beat it back down. I'd thought too much about _him_ and _them_ already. Anymore and I would fall apart.

He didn't push any further, sensing that I would not say more. I was starting to really like Sam.

"Need anything else?" He asked me.

"Just this." I slung the two bags over my shoulder and walked on ahead, looking one last time at my house.

I smiled when I saw Dean lolling against his car.

"'67 Chevy Impala, huh? Nice car." He blinked at me, surprised.

"You got good taste." Then he shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.

"Uh, Odette, listen, if you're coming with us, we... need to know about your ….uh, parents," he stopped awkwardly.

The throb started in my chest full force. I curled a hand around my torso, grappling to suppress it.

I wanted to cry right then and there, but I'd done enough of that last night. I sighed in relief as I managed to beat it down. It must have shown on my face, because I saw Sam step on Dean's foot out of the corner of my eye.

"I'm an emancipated minor, Dean. You don't need to worry about that." I smiled through gritted teeth.

Castiel was shuffling his feet behind me, for some reason.

He screwed up his face in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means that my p- parents," I forced the word out, "Have no legal control over me."

I blinked back my tears, hoping they wouldn't notice. Sam was eying me concernedly now, waiting for me to break down, I suppose.

Dean opened his mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I just want you to know what you're getting into. You know, skeevy motel rooms, road tripping day in and day out, the works. It's not an easy life."

I shook my head. "Better than the kind I live here. As for those skeevy motel rooms," I flipped out my credit cards. "I can help with those."

Dean's eyes bugged wide. "Where did you get your hands on those, kid?"

"I haven't robbed any banks, if that's what you're thinking.

Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." I had nothing more to say.

I slid into the car.


	9. Fight Test

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :D**

**Well, Odette's finally on her way! Things are getting kicked into motion**

**So, just FYI, I base my writing on my own personal experience and preferences. For example, the books mentioned are all my favorites, as well as Odette's hobbies. ;) You'll see later on more allusions to my own personality.**

**Believe it or not, the definitions in this chapter as described by Odette (and Sam) are very real.**

**To quote Dean: 'It sounds made up, I know.'**

**It really isn't, though. :P**

**On with it, shall we?**

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER NINE- FIGHT TEST

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," I told him, sliding into the backseat.

He sat in front of the steering wheel, not letting it go. "But-"

I shut my eyes, sinking into the upholstery. "_Please_," I whispered. "Don't ask me to explain. I _can't_." My voice distorted around the word. I was close to breaking point.

He opened his mouth again. The hole in my chest was waiting, dulled now by a year's worth of effort, but waiting, now, to rip itself wide open again.

"Dean." Castiel's voice startled me. He'd been silent throughout our conversation. "Leave her alone."

Something in his tone made Dean grumble a "Fine."

I risked opening my eyes. Castiel was sitting in the back, as far as the seat would allow. I tried not to let that get to me. Angels probably weren't big on cars.

Sam sat shotgun, peeking at my expression. "Don't worry, Odette. My _brother_," he fixed Dean with an angry look, "Will mind his own business."

Dean cleared his throat. "Sorry, Odette."

"It's all right, Dean. I probably would have pressed for details if I were you."

"Anyway, as long as I'm driving, there are certain rules to be followed."

Sam groaned. "Dean, please. Quit being such a kid."

"Shut up, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

My lips twitched. My mood lifted a bit. Not by much, but it was a start.

"Anyway, kid, rules are simple. When I drive, nobody complains about my music. Don't like it, then get your own. You wanna put your feet up, I won't stop you, but you _take your shoes off_. I don't want a speck of mud on my baby, you hear me?"

"I hear you." I smiled at him.

"God, Dean, why don't you just write it on a piece of paper and stick it on the hood or something?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"That's not a bad idea, actually, Dean. Sam's suggestion is very helpful. It would get the point across to anybody who's in your 'baby'." Castiel looked innocently at Dean.

This time I couldn't help it. A small, hastily stifled chuckle escaped my lips.

Sam looked pleased, for some reason. Dean turned his head to glare at Castiel. "Angel. Shut up."

Castiel looked affronted. "I was only trying to help. I will not add my advice if it offends you."

He lapsed into silence. Oddly, I wanted to help him. I searched for a way, but couldn't find one. I was strangely dissatisfied.

"Oh, let's just get out of here." Dean revved the engine, and shot out onto Elm Street.

I looked one last time at my house, now so cold and empty, at the place I'd lived for the past year.

Then I realized something. It hit me hard, and I finally understood.

I'd left home already. I missed it. It gnawed at my heart, the longing to go, go back, the tugging sensation that never really went away, even numbed as it was by months of practice. And home wasn't Maine.

Sam was looking at me now. "Is it hard? What you're leaving from?"

I turned my eyes to his. "Nothing to leave behind."

And it was the truth.

Dean coughed. "All right. I found us a hunt up in Jericho, California. Took a look in Dad's journal, he'd marked this one. Even a message. Listen to it."

He brought out a small phone. A low, gravelly voice that sounded a lot like Dean's could be heard.

"Dean, go to Jericho, Cali. Bunch of men disappearing off the same highway for ten years now. Get there." But it was the snarling, rasping noise in the background that had my attention.

I focused on it, trying to decipher the words. It was a woman's voice that much was clear.

I couldn't believe it. "That's…. EVP."

Dean gave me a surprised look. "How'd you know that?"

"I...uh read about it somewhere. Most people think it's auditory paraidolia."

"Para- what?" Dean sounded confused.

"Auditory paraidolia is when the brain incorrectly interprets random patterns as being familiar patterns. In the case of EVP, a person would think he was hearing a human voice."

"It's also closely linked to apophenia which is-"

Dean cut me off. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You wanna get your geek on, you do it with Sam. He's the Joe College, not me. I didn't get one word of what you were saying, and frankly I don't want to. You and Sam are gonna get along just fine, I can tell."

Sam huffed. "I have heard of that. Apophenia is termed as the spontaneous finding of connections or meanings in things-"

"That are random, unconnected or meaningless." I finished for him, smiling.

He laughed. "So what do you like doing, Odette?"

"I love reading, writing, listening to music. Stuff like that."

"So you're into arts, then?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"So, what's the latest book you've read?"

"Um, War and Peace."

The car jerked. Dean was spluttering and so was Sam.

"Did you just say you read _War and Peace_, kid?" Dean looked like he was about to have an embolism.

"Yes."

"The book is bloody _huge_. It gives me a headache just looking at it! You read it for _fun?_" Dean looked absolutely scandalized.

"Yeah."

"Did you like it?" Sam resumed our conversation.

"Yup. Have you read it?"

"Bits and pieces, yes."

The car jerked again. Sam ignored it. "What did you like best about it?"

"I think it's the way Tolstoy wrote it. How he portrays a characters point of view- it's so swift, so _seamless_. The visual detail is almost cinematic, you know, the way he can give dramatic interest to battles or ballrooms or… or anything, really."

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Sam grinned at me. "So if you've read War and Peace, you must have read Anna Karenina."

I nodded. "It's beautiful. One of my favorite books of all time."

"Mine too. What are your other favorites?"

"It's hard to say, really. I think maybe To Kill A Mockingbird, Animal Farm, War and Peace, Lord of The Rings, Anne of Green Gables, Oliver Twist and David Copperfield."

"That's a long list." Sam blinked.

"I know." I was surprised. It was very easy to talk to Sam.

"Why?"

"Why what?" I was the one who was confused, now.

Sam angled his head so it was turned in my direction. "I mean, you're clearly intelligent. Given the kind of books you read, the way you speak, you would've had a bright future. Why did you give all that up to come with us?

I sobered up. Both Dean and even Castiel were looking at me now.

I took a deep breath, choosing my answer carefully. "Maine wasn't home. I've left my real home far behind me, and it's somewhere I can never go back to. The kind of life I was living here... it was empty, artificial, pre-programmed. I was living like a robot. Perfect grades, perfect house, perfect school, and perfect friends. Everything was perfect. I should've been happy, but I wasn't. I was... like a machine. Numb. Living in a daze. I tried to deny it. I only realized that yesterday. It was the apple pie life. The only problem was that I wasn't enjoying it."

"Believe me, it was still hard, throwing it all away, everything I'd ever known and worked for. It was part of why I'm going with you, but the real reason is that I didn't want somebody's blood on my hands. My teachers, my friends, everyone I know back in Maine were in danger because of me. Because they knew me, however distantly. I couldn't be that selfish, to have somebody's life in danger just because I was too cowardly to face the truth. I couldn't stand the guilt if something happened to someone I care about because of me."

_Not again_, the voice in my head whispered traitorously.

I shook away the thought. "I'm only a kid. This is the best I can do."

"You're not just a kid. Not many would have the courage to do what you did." Dean surprised me.

"I wouldn't call it courage, considering I'm grasping at a chance to save my life."

"Jeez, Odette, how did you get any sleep last night?" Sam was looking at me sympathetically.

_I don't deserve your sympathy_, my mind was screaming at him. _If only you knew..._

"I didn't," I mumbled. "I was too busy... deciding."

I hurriedly turned to Castiel. He still intimidated me with his severity; his beauty only an angel could possess- perfect, timeless, remote.

"What about you, Castiel? What do you like doing?"

He seemed surprised that I was talking to him. "I... don't have many interests, I suppose. I do my duty that is all. But... I do love flying. It's absolutely exhilarating, soaring above all of humanity, so far up in the sky, where it's only you and the quiet rustle of your wings, floating in the air, no force of gravity upon you... it's indescribable."

I breathed out, the way he put it, I could almost visualize it, Castiel flying in the night sky, fierce and unstoppable.

"Hey, Odette," I jerked slightly.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Why don't you rest? You must be tired out after yesterday. It's only 7:00 I know, but you need to catch up on your sleep."

"Shoes off," Dean reminded me.

"Of course, Dean," I smiled at him. "I'll sleep in a bit, Sam, I _am_ tired, but I'd like to stay up for some time."

I looked tentatively at Castiel, who seemed slightly less forbidding than before and curled up against the window sill, kicking off my shoes as I watched the outskirts of Maine streak by, and despite myself, I drifted off to sleep.


	10. Bag Full Of Thoughts

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**So Odette's finally off! :D**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**This isn't my finest chapter, as yet. You have been warned.**

**On with it, shall we?**

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER TEN- BAG FULL OF THOUGHTS

"Rise and shine, kid." Someone was talking to me. Loudly. I groaned, trying to pull the sheet over my head. That's when I realized there was no sheet.

"Wake up, Odette. I know you're tired, but you'll want to get up soon, and it'll be too late then."

Too late for what? The voice was familiar, tugging at my sleepy brain.

I curled in tighter, trying to get comfortable. Since when had my bed become so hard, or so small?

"Maybe you should try, Castiel." The name pulled at me, trying to get me conscious.

"Odette? Can you hear me? We think you should wake up now."

Then it all came flooding back. Amy's ghost. Castiel's wings. Leaving Maine.

With a jerk, I rolled over, landing on the floor of the Impala with a surprised yelp.

I looked up to see two grinning men and one bemused angel.

Sam amusedly offered me a hand. I took it and pulled myself up.

"Well, you're definitely not a morning person," he said by way of greeting.

"Good morning," I said, choosing to ignore his statement.

"Took you long enough," Dean grumbled when he saw me.

I instantly cringed. "Sorry." Sam frowned at Dean.

I turned to Castiel. "Good morning," I hoped my voice didn't sound too squeaky.

He cocked his head to one side. "Is it one?"

"Um," I shuffled my feet nervously. "I hope so?" It came out as more of a question than a statement.

"I see." He studied me gravely. Involuntarily, I flushed.

"What time is it?" I rubbed the last of the sleep from my eyes.

"7:30 AM." Sam looked at me. "We'd have let you sleep longer, but we're just outside of California, and if we want to reach Jericho tonight, we'll have to be on the road nonstop, so you might want to brush your teeth and shower."

It was then that I noticed we were parked outside a motel.

"Dean's already booked a room. You might want to go inside." Sam explained while I was looking.

I moved forward, still slightly sleepy. Dean, it transpired, had already showered by the time Sam and I reached the room.

"Why don't you go ahead? I can wait." Sam smiled at me.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah."

I slipped inside the bathroom, thoroughly brushing my teeth and flossing.

I turned on the shower, relishing the feel of the warm water on my skin.

My mind wandered onto Castiel. He was so hard to understand.

I huffed. He didn't seem to dislike me, but he didn't seem to like me either. I supposed angels didn't associate with humans much.

Dean. I cringed, an instant reaction. He didn't seem to like me at all. I couldn't really blame him. If he knew what I'd done...

_He'd only hate you more, _the voice in my mind hissed viciously.

I sighed. At least Sam liked me.

I dried myself off quickly, changing into snug dark wash jeans and a sleeveless apple green top. It was much warmer here, and I enjoyed the change in weather.

I decided to keep on my ballet flats, hastily toweling my hair dry. I brushed it carefully, stepping out into the room.

Sam turned to go inside. I resisted the urge to latch onto his hand and beg him not to leave me alone with Dean.

Castiel was nowhere in sight. Dean was sitting on one of the chairs in the room, apparently calling room service.

"What'll you have?"

"Uh," I scanned the menu on the table. "The Cobb salad and a peach smoothie."

He shrugged. "This is room 201. We'd like one bacon sandwich, a portion of pancakes and a Cobb salad and peach smoothie."

I sat down uneasily next to him, trying not to act on the instinct to curl up into a ball.

I stared down at the chipped tiles, trying to work up the courage to break the tense silence.

"So," I flinched when he started speaking, instantly regretting the action.

Dean pretended not to notice. "You like listening to music, huh?"

"Yeah," I agreed, pleasantly surprised he was talking to me. I wanted him to like me. I wanted _all _of them to like me. They seemed like good people. I genuinely liked them, even if some of them didn't return the gesture.

"So which are your favorite bands?"

I gave an embarrassed smile. "You probably wouldn't know most of them."

"Try me. I'm only 26."

"Uh, Evanescence, Paramore, Adele, Muse, AC/DC, I guess."

"AC/DC, huh? That's one of my favorite bands, too. Which of their songs do you like the most?"

"Kinda hard to say… um, Thunderstruck, T.N.T, It's A Long Way To The Top, Whole Lotta Rosie, Shoot To Thrill, Back in Black."

Dean smirked at me. "They're all pretty good."

He launched into song.

I smiled at him. Maybe I could get him to like me. He didn't smile back, but at least he didn't seem as annoyed as before.

It was then that breakfast arrived.

Sam got out shortly after. "Dean, you should seriously quit singing. You sounded like a foghorn."

I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling.

"Shut up, Sammy. Kid's got more class than you have."

That made Sam glare, but then he turned curious eyes on me. "You like AC/DC?"

The tips of my ears turned pink. "Yeah, I know it's old.."

Sam huffed in surprise.

I blushed a darker shade of red.

Probably noticing my discomfort, Sam changed the topic. "Muse is my favorite band."

I smiled. "What's your favorite song of theirs?"

"Supermassive Black Holes."

"Mine too." We grinned at each other.

Sam started singing, too, though he didn't sound much better than Dean.

I looked away so they wouldn't see my lips twitch.

"HEY! Enough all ready, Sam! My ears are bleeding!"

Dean had his fingers plugged into his ears.

Sam growled. "Oh hello, pot, this kettle. Yeah, you're black."

Dean gave him the evil eye. "You sound worse."

"No you do."

"No you."

I stifled my laughter. They both looked at me. "Who's worse?" Dean demanded.

I froze. What was I supposed to say?

Castiel appeared out of nowhere into the room. I nearly fell off my chair in shock.

"I believe Sam is slightly less tone deaf than you, Dean," Castiel said with utmost sincerity.

I blinked.

"Whatever you were singing about, it hardly seemed appropriate. Hell is not something to be taken lightly."

I blinked harder.

Dean snorted. "Whatever, angel. Now if you guys are done yakking, I'd like to eat, if you don't mind."

He dug into his sandwich, the ends of which were curling. I felt vaguely nauseous at the amount of grease that was coating it.

Sam was tucking into his pancakes, one after another.

I twined the salad around the tines of my fork, chewing slowly. The cherry tomatoes were unusually sweet. I savored them.

I sipped my smoothie, indulging in the taste. It was chunky and fresh and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I looked at Castiel curiously. "Aren't you going to eat?"

He looked at me impassively.

"My sustenance comes in the form of energy from Heaven. I do not need human food."

I nodded, perhaps too many times. "Do you do it often? Zapping from place to place in a second?"

"Yes. Very often." Castiel seemed to be slightly restless.

"OK." My voice was definitely squeaky now.

Dean and Sam were finished. We walked out of the room to the lobby, where Dean paid the bill.

We went back to the Impala, where I resumed sitting near the windowsill, looking out at the parking lot.

Dean gunned the ignition, turning onto the road leading to Jericho.


	11. Unconsciously Screamin'

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**So- the pilot episode is going to be in the next chapter, 'mkay?**

**Just for the record- Jess is already dead, so don't get confused.**

**Another thing- I'll publish a new story for every season.**

**So this story will probably have 46 chapters or something, featuring all the episodes from season one.**

**Then another story for season two, then for season three, etc, etc.**

**Capeesh?**

**Garideth, who saved me a lot of sleepless nights as a result, suggested this totally awesome idea. She also, I might add, reviews every chapter, and doesn't seem to mind my pestering. :P**

**So thanks a bucket load, Garideth! (^_^)**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed (yes, even the flamers)!**

**On with it, shall we?**

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER ELEVEN- UNCONSCIOUSLY SCREAMIN'

I curled up against the window-seat, looking out at the nearly deserted parking lot. Castiel resumed sitting as far as he could in the limited space.

I tried not to let that get to me. Dean gunned the engine, impatiently waiting for Sam to get in.

He threw himself inside, still grinning ridiculously at Dean. "Ha! Castiel said I was better, right?"

"I believe I said you were slightly less tone deaf, if that is what you mean." Castiel spoke in his deep, smooth bass.

Dean growled. "Angel's ears must be iffy."

"My ears are not 'iffy', whatever that means, Dean," Castiel assured him.

Sam snickered. "Just drive, idiot."

I smiled slightly, resting my head against the windowsill, still a bit tired. I used to have fun like this- bantering with my- I stopped that thought cold. I couldn't think it. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Shouldn't.

I felt like screaming sometimes, when everything was too much to take in, too much to handle. The hole throbbed, no, pounded in pain against my chest, almost as if it was trying to rip through my body in it's extremity, in it's _enormity_.

I could feel Castiel's gaze on me, and I hunched in tighter into myself. There was so much compassion in his eyes, as if he somehow _understood_, even if he didn't know what I'd done, what I was going through.

But he couldn't, in a way. The main reason why? I deserved every bit of this pain, this guilt, and this anguish.

I caused it. The fault was mine. I couldn't protect the people I loved, and now I was paying the price.

_Leave me_, my mind was shouting at the three men in the car that was heading towards Jericho.

_Leave me to die_. The voice was lower now, but somehow even more strident in its softness.

_I'm a danger. A menace._

_I'm weak. I couldn't protect what was mine. I can't even protect myself._

_I'll drag you down to your deaths_. I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to moan in pain.

_So leave me. Save yourselves. I ruin everything I come across._

_Leave me and don't look back._

Every cell in my body ached to deny it. But I couldn't. I knew it was the truth.

Castiel tilted his head, his expression confused... almost perturbed.

_I don't deserve your compassion_, my mind wanted to tell him, only I didn't have the courage. They would hate me if they knew, and I cursed myself for my cowardice.

Castiel's perplexed look increased, as he studied me intently, as if he knew what I was thinking.

I shook off my misery, taming the throbbing in my chest with difficulty, but manage it I did. I had to.

_The past is gone_, I told myself bitterly. _The damage is done._

I turned my face upwards. _Forgive me, for I have sinned._

The voice in my head decided to make an appearance.

_Who are you asking forgiveness from? There is no one here to help._

_Not anymore_, it added. _You made sure of that_.

Fortunately, Sam distracted me by replaying the message I'd heard yesterday night.

"What do you think the woman's trying to say?" He asked Dean.

"Dunno. They're words all right, just hard to understand."

I concentrated on the sound of the woman's voice, blinking in surprise when I finally understood.

"I can never go home." I said aloud in puzzlement.

"What?" Dean and Sam echoed in unison.

"That's what the woman is saying. I can never go home."

Huh. Guess that made two of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could've sworn I saw Castiel raise an eyebrow.

Dean listened to the woman's voice again. "You're right."

There was silence in the car for a time. To prevent my thoughts from taking a darker turn, I pulled out the book I'd been reading before I'd met the Winchesters and Castiel.

Dr Zhivago. One of _his_ favorite books.

I shook the thought away like I would an irksome fly and lost myself in the time of the Russian Revolution and Lenin's Bolsheviks.

Sam gave a startled laugh when he saw what I was reading.

"You really like Russian writers, don't you?"

"I like Pasternak," I agreed mildly. He shook his head amusedly.

"Kid, you're a nerd bird." Dean grunted, when he saw the size of the book.

"Maybe," I allowed with a small smile. Whereupon Sam and Dean started bickering. Again.

"She doesn't look like a nerd bird, chucklehead!"

"Just because she doesn't look like a nerd bird doesn't mean she can't be one, Gigantor!"

"Nerd birds are supposed to be plain, Dean. She's the furthest thing from plain I've ever seen in my life!"

My smile widened.

"Yeah, yeah, so she's beautiful. I still say she's a nerd bird. I mean, Tolstoy? Please. Next thing you know, she'll start in on friggin' Shakespeare."

I clamped my lips together.

"There's nothing wrong with Shakespeare, Dean!"

"Oh, sure, read Romeo and Juliet yet, Sam? Or should I say _Samantha_?"

My mood lifted considerably, listening to them quibble, even though it started the deep-seated ache and longing for them. But they'd gone to a place I couldn't bring them back from.

"I do like Shakespeare," I said, effectively ending their argument.

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times. "What did I tell you, Sammy? I suppose you read poetry too," he looked at me sarcastically.

I tried not to let his acerbic tone affect me. "I do, actually."

Dean didn't speak for a long time after that.

Sam, almost as if to try and contrast his brother's behavior, asked me which were my favorite poets.

"Auden, I suppose, Edgar Allen Poe, E.E Cunningham, and Shakespeare, of course. What about you?"

Dean mimed gagging. Sam glared at him.

"Chaucer, Poe, Shakespeare, I suppose."

We stopped talking after that, spending the time in companionable silence. At least Sam and I did.

Dean, I winced inwardly, really didn't seem to like me. I wasn't sure about Castiel either, but at least he wasn't as intimidating as before.

Sam was easy to be with, and I found that I genuinely liked him, and he appeared to feel the same.

I continued reading, until my eyes drooped slowly shut, and I nodded off to sleep. I must have been more exhausted than I thought.

When I came to, the car wasn't moving and a blanket was wrapped around me.

I reluctantly opened my eyes when Sam gently shook me.

He gave me a friendly smile as I sat up and stretched. I returned it, looking down at the blanket in mute question.

"Castiel thought you might get cold," he explained. I looked at the silent, inscrutable angel.

"Thanks," I whispered, touched. He dipped his head in acknowledgement.

I looked at the 'Welcome to Jericho' sign and wondered why we'd stopped.

"Dean decided to give you something." Sam said, guessing my confusion.

I could hear somebody rifling in the trunk of the Impala and hopped out of the car.

When I reached Dean, he silently held out the 'something' to me.

I was vaguely aware of Sam behind me as I took it.

I gulped when I saw the bowie knife. Its blade was long and tapered, glinting in the night surrounding us.

And I could tell, just by looking, that it was wickedly sharp.

"Um, thanks," I said, a trifle uncertainly, stowing it carefully in the pocket of my jeans.

"It's exactly your size. You keep it with you at all times, anywhere you go. It stays under your pillow at night, you hear?"

Dean's tone was firm and left no room for argument, even if I'd been stupid enough to try.

"Yeah," I nodded, not sure I could handle more than a word or two.

"I'm not happy with it. I'd have preferred to give you a gun but I doubt you'd be able to handle it."

I froze.

"What?" Dean demanded when he saw my expression.

I desperately wrestled with the hole in my chest that was starting to tear now.

I struggled, pushing it down to the very depths of my mind.

"I... I can use a gun," I stammered through unmoving lips.

Sam's mouth opened with an audible pop.

Dean blinked, then his face hardened. "What kind?"

His tone was harsher than before. "Handgun."

My voice trembled.

He dug inside the trunk and pulled one out, holding it out to me.

"Show me," he commanded.

I curled my hand around it, hating the feel of it against my skin.

Robotically, I did what he asked. I dismantled it quickly, settling into the action, reassembling it just as fast.

I loaded and unloaded it. "Safety on, safety off," I finished, my voice unsteady, the hole still threatening to get out of control.

My hand shook as I held it out to Dean. His face was stony.

"Keep it. It's loaded with salt. You see a ghost; you shoot. It'll keep it away for a spell. Only use it when you have no other choice, got it?"

I nodded, and Dean threw me a calculating look while Sam stood by silently.

I wedged the gun into my sock, rolling my jeans over it, making sure it wasn't visible. It bulged out only slightly.

That seemed to surprise Dean. "How'd you know to put it in your socks?"

I patted it into place. "Moves from the hip only work in movies."

I was hideously aware of the gun against my skin; it was much too familiar a sensation. The dread in my heart was as cold as the metal object stuck in my sock. The realization that I truly had left everything behind finally sunk in.

Welcome to Jericho indeed.


	12. Ghost In The Mirror

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Well, chapter twelve is up! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**This one's kinda short. But you know how fast I update, so chapter thirteen will be up tomorrow! ;)**

**By the way- the name of the chapter is borrowed from the band Motionless in White. I found it….. fitting.**

**On with it, shall we? **

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER TWELVE- GHOST IN THE MIRROR

Dean slowed the car as soon as he saw the nearest motel. I took one look at it and shuddered. "Keep driving," I told him.

I instantly wished I'd kept my mouth shut when Dean turned around to not glare, exactly, but his stare was distinctly unfriendly.

"You don't like skeevy motel rooms, do you? I told you I could help with that."

I swallowed nervously. Dean didn't look like he was going to agree anytime soon.

Sam came to the rescue. "Come on, Dean, humor her. Do you like staying in rooms with rats and roaches?"

Rats. I barely concealed my shiver. Dean paused for a long minute, then moved the Impala forward with a jolt.

Sam looked at me apologetically. As we moved further into Jericho, I spotted a suitable hotel.

"How about here?" I asked timidly, avoiding Dean's eyes.

He huffed. "Kid, this place is-"

I cut him off, thrusting one of my credit cards at him. He stared at the sleek, black surface as if it were a snake.

"It'll work, I promise." I curled into the windowsill, trying to shield myself against Dean's obvious distrust. He stared at my position for a long minute.

"Fine," he said gruffly, slightly less antagonistic. He walked out into the hotel, leaving me alone with Sam and Castiel.

I breathed out in relief.

Sam smiled at me reassuringly, trying to ease my mind, I supposed.

Part of me wanted to thank him for being so kind, but I was too frightened and nervous to smile back.

The ramifications of my decision were slowly seeping through, and I was very close to a panic attack.

Castiel shifted a bit closer to me. "You don't have to be afraid," he spoke in a calm, measured monotone.

Inexplicably, his unruffled tone helped me some. "You're safe with us."

Hearing him speak lessened my panic.

I tried to smile at him as best as I could. _Thank you_, my mind whispered.

His expression relaxed infinitesimally, almost as if he understood.

Sam, who had been silent, cleared his throat. "Seriously, Odette, you don't need to worry. You'll be fine, I swear."

I smiled properly then. He seemed to understand that as my thanks.

_Dean doesn't like me_, was all my mind could repeat, though.

Castiel inclined his head to one side, a habit I was fast getting acquainted with.

He seemed on the verge of saying something, when Dean returned.

"Well, did it work?" Sam demanded. Dean did not answer, but silently handed the card back to me. It was answer enough.

Sam got out of the car, as did Castiel. I went around the back to collect my suitcases.

I opened the trunk with difficulty, and then nearly shut it in my surprise. My eyes grew huge as I surveyed the plethora of machetes, knives, guns and a few more things I really didn't want to know the origin of.

I retrieved my suitcases and walked into the lobby of the hotel. Dean had already checked in, so we moved into the elevator and headed towards our rooms.

Mine was off on the side of Dean and Sam's. I entered it, looking forward to sleeping on the plush, feathery bed.

I showered quickly, changing into a tank top and shorts. I rubbed cream into my face and hands and the smell of it, familiar, soft and comforting, helped soothe my frazzled nerves.

I was just about ready to sink into bed when Dean walked in. I tensed immediately.

He threw me a bag of rock salt. "Line it across the window, nice and thick. Keeps ghosts out."

His eyes fell on the gun by my bedside. I'd gotten it off as soon as I could, hating the sensation of it against my skin.

I did as he asked, while Dean stood and watched.

"We'll be working the case in the morning, around 10 o'clock."

I nodded. "I'll be up."

Dean grunted and withdrew from my room. I tucked the knife below my pillow, remembering his instructions.

I was almost about to fall asleep when I saw the woman in the gauzy white dress outside my window.


	13. Lost Souls

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**As promised, chapter thirteen is up!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**About the name of the chapter- it's from this musical on Broadway called The Woman In White. It was based on a book by the same name by Wilkie Collins. **

**I haven't seen the musical, but I have read the book! **

**Oh, almost forgot, part of Odette's nightmare (*evil grin*) is in Spanish! **

**On with it, shall we?**

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN- LOST SOULS

I was up and flattened against the wall in an instant. I waited for several minutes, inching forward bit by bit, knife in hand.

By the time, I reached the window; the woman was gone- if she really had been there.

I paused, flopping back onto my bed. It could have very well been my overactive imagination, acting up after I'd been forced to admit that things really _did_ go bump in the night, and my brain had reached overload.

That was the logical theory. The one I wanted to believe. The alternative?

There was a possibly angry spirit right outside my window.

I shook my head violently. What was I supposed to do?

Call Sam or Dean? Just the mental image of Dean's expression had me recoiling against the bedpost.

No. It was a figment of my imagination, nothing more. I curled up on my bed determinedly. All the same, I held the knife loosely in my hand, vainly trying to fall asleep.

When I finally did, I was plagued by the same nightmare.

_"Do it, Odette." He pleaded. "I can't hold on much longer. Stop me. __**Please**__."_

_I was shaking,____**it **__was shaking in my hand, hideously precise._

_" You know what I've done. You know what's going to happen if you don't. What's going to happen to you."_

_The salt water was dripping down my cheeks, hot and sticky, tinged with horror, foreboding._

_"Don't. Don't make me do this." I was the one who was pleading now._

_"You have to. Be strong, Odette. I'm begging you."_

_My throat convulsed. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you, couldn't protect you, couldn't stop you. I love you__**. **__**Perdoname, querido**__.__"_

_**"**__**No hay nada que perdonar,**__ Odette. It__ wasn't your fault. I love you, too. Always have, always will. __**Mantente fuerte**__."_

_I squeezed. One simple motion. Over._

I screamed.

My eyes flipped wide open as I vaulted up in bed, chest heaving.

After all those months. I wasn't strong enough to suppress it.

The horrified tears were pooling under my eyelids, but I swiped them away. I deserved this, and I would not wallow in my misery. Not anymore.

I glanced at the digital clock. It was 9:00 AM. An hour before Dean and Sam started "work".

I rolled out of bed and showered quickly, following up by brushing my teeth. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, relieved to see no outward sign of my inner turmoil.

Slipping into casual denim shorts and a red silk tee, I stepped out into my room, to find Sam waiting for me.

"Good. You're up. C'mon out and have breakfast." He smiled easily at me.

I returned it, following him out into their room. Dean was waiting, tufts of hair sticking up on his head.

I fought the odd urge to smile. He seemed a little less intimidating in his sleep-tousled state, not nearly so hostile.

I decided to go with orange juice and toast, while Dean and Sam opted for their regular options.

Dean turned to look at me. "We'll be out hunting. We'll come back around 11. Stay here, all right?"

I nodded. I didn't want to go out anyway.

"Castiel will be here to take care of you." Sam added.

"Anything you need, you can tell him." He smiled encouragingly.

I hesitantly smiled back. Part of me didn't want to be babysat by an angel, but I knew I was weak, and if something happened, I wouldn't be able to protect myself, and I'd put the others at risk.

Castiel popped into the room at that moment. I jumped in surprise, still not used to the fact of his zapping from place to place.

It was almost 10. Sam and Dean left shortly after, leaving me alone with Castiel.

There was an awkward pause. I was unsure of what to say. Castiel wasn't easy to talk to and friendly like Sam, nor was he gruff and antisocial, like Dean.

He was a mystery. At least with Dean, I could try and make myself as unassuming as possible, but Castiel?

I had no idea.

I pondered him, and then realized something.

"Your name's Castiel. You're the angel of Thursday, aren't you?"

I seemed to have mildly surprised him.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"I just remembered. From a book. You're supposed to assist anyone who calls out for help on a Thursday, but that's probably a myth, right?"

"Right."

He lapsed into silence after that. I peeked at him, and then retrieved my laptop.

I might as well do something useful in the time I had.

I opened up my assignments from my correspondence course, wincing at the amount of Algebra.

I meticulously finished all of them, settling into the familiar activity.

I grew comfortable in Castiel's presence, since he was trying to be unobtrusive, but it was hard not to notice his being there.

I finished faster than I wanted to. I tapped my fingers on the screen, an impatient, staccato beat, desperate for a distraction.

The tempo of my fingers stuttered as a new idea entered my head.

Sam had told me about the hunt. Several men had been disappearing off the same stretch of road, Centennial Highway, for up to ten years now.

I decided to research. I wanted to be useful, and in the unlikely event that they didn't find anything, I would have liked to be able to help.

The next half an hour, I found all the information I could, and the sinking feeling in my stomach only increased with everything I found.

I was so engrossed, I didn't notice when Dean and Sam returned.

Sam had to tap me on my shoulder to get my attention.

I twitched nervously. "Did you find anything?"

"Nope," Dean answered, throwing himself on the other vacant bed.

"We met the victim's girlfriend- she didn't really know anything."

I had no choice now. Castiel had gone as soon as the Winchesters had come back.

I could not stall for time. Sam looked at me, then. Properly.

"Odette? Is something wrong?"

Dean's gaze was sharply focused on me now.

I coughed to cover up my nervousness. "I did some research while you guys were gone."

"You said spirits usually exist because they died violent deaths, right?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. I tried not to gulp.

"So, um, there was this woman, Constance Welch. It's said that she found her two children in the bathtub, dead and jumped off Centennial Highway into the lake after calling 911. Constance died on a Monday. Ever since then, a man's been disappearing on a Monday, the exact hour she died."

Sam and Dean blinked at me for a long minute. I fidgeted on Sam's bed.

I was almost to jump up and leave the room, when Sam cracked a grin.

"That's some pretty good research, Odette. I'm impressed."

I sagged in relief, smiling at him.

Dean fixed me with a penetrating gaze. "You're probably right, but we still need to know if this Constance chick is the one offing these men."

"She is," I said, my mood darkening.

He looked at me suspiciously. "And you would know that because..."

I showed him the newspaper clip of Constance Welch's face.

"Still doesn't explain why-" I waved a hand.

"I saw her. She was outside my window last night. Same woman."

I tried not to let my voice shake.

At that, Dean slammed his hand on the table. "Why didn't you tell us?" he demanded.

I balked. "I thought I was imagining it. You know, after the whole ghosts-are-real business."

He huffed in annoyance.

Sam resumed speaking. "We don't care, Odette. Even if you think you're dreaming, or it's a false alarm, _tell us_. The consequences could be fatal, you understand?"

"I understand." And I understood. I did. I understood that I'd screwed up. Again, if Dean's expression was anything to go by.

I was ready to slink back into my room when Sam stopped me.

"We'll leave in the evening to find Constance."

"And you're coming with us," Dean added firmly.

I thought I saw Sam throw a quick look at Dean.

"You'll need to tell us what the ghost looks like, and which stretch of highway is the one she took a nosedive from," he clarified.

I bobbed my head in agreement, edging away into my room.

I caught Sam glaring at Dean.

I turned away, just wanting to hide beneath the covers.

Instead, I opened up my email, dreading the mails I knew would be there.

_The hell have you been, Odette? Mrs. P. said you were leaving!_

_You better haul your butt back to Maine and give us a proper goodbye, Odette or I'll come down to wherever you are and drag it back myself! _

_School isn't the same without you, Odette. I miss you__. Won't you come back?_

_I miss you too;_ I wanted to write back to them.

To all of them. To the people who'd made my life a bit more bearable in Maine.

But I couldn't. Not anymore.

Not when I'd be putting them in danger. Not again.

Then the ridiculous tears came, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. So I let it all out, my guilt, my misery, and my agony. Everything, until I felt as empty as a dried out husk.

This would be the last time I cried. I was tired of being weak. I'd had enough. I had a new life, and while I could never forget what I'd done, I could bury it, deep, deep down, and never revisit it again.

I glanced at my watch. It was past 7:00 now, almost time for us to leave.

I wiped my face fiercely, making sure no signs of my breakdown were visible.

I walked out into Dean's room, nearly bumping into him.

"We're leaving now. Got your gun?"

I winced mentally. "Yeah."

"Get in the car."

I hurried out, where Sam was waiting.

I slid in the backseat, slightly nervous.

Dean gunned the car, and we made it to Centennial Highway in record time.

I jerked against the upholstery as I looked ahead.

I'd seen Constance. And this time so had Sam and Dean.

She threw herself over the bridge, and promptly disappeared.

We were out in a trice. "That her?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." We moved forward warily, towards the edge of the road.

The familiar, rasping growl made us stop in our tracks and look back.

The Impala was moving towards us. Fast.


	14. She Is Death

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**I always keep my promises! Chapter fourteen is up!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**The name of this chapter is borrowed from The Flaming Lips. **

**On with it, shall we?**

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN- SHE IS DEATH

Dean roughly pushed me ahead of him. "RUN!" Sam bellowed, following close behind us. We sprinted, the Impala close on our heels.

My breath came in short, unsteady pants, my pulse raced, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The constant drumming of our feet against the asphalt pounded in my ears, consistent and monotonous.

Sam pulled me along when I slowed slightly, Dean flanking my left.

We fled, chased by the possessed car that the brothers loved so much.

Something had to give, though. The Impala was slowly gaining ground on us. I was spent, and even Dean and Sam's speed was decreasing, bit-by-bit.

Dean dragged me forward as I nearly slipped. The Winchesters seemed to arrive at the same conclusion I had.

"We're gonna have to jump the fence," Dean yelled above the growl of the car.

I nearly stopped in my tracks when I saw its height.

"We'll help you, Odette, just GO!" Sam jerked me forward.

I wedged my feet into the fence, conscious of Dean and Sam's bolstering hands as they hoisted me up.

With their help, I managed to land on the other side. I still had enough presence of mind to snatch Sam's hand in mine to pull him over. I grabbed a handful of leather jacket that might have been Dean's, I wasn't sure in the confusion.

I lost my balance in the thick underbrush, and would've fallen to my death into the lake below if Sam hadn't caught hold of my arm.

"Thanks," I whispered shakily.

"Don't mention it," he muttered. That's when we noticed Dean was gone.

Absolute panic flooded Sam's features. "DEAN!" He shouted, eyes sweeping over the deserted area. "DEAN!"

I searched too, finding nothing. "Dean!" I called.

Sam was frantic, and I was getting worried, when a faint voice wafted in our direction from the edge of the lake.

"I'm fine, all right? Quit yelling!"

Relief washed over his face.

Dean himself emerged a few minutes later, disgruntled and sopping wet, hair plastered to his face.

Apparently, he hadn't been as lucky as us. I tried not to wrinkle my nose when he arrived, and failed miserably.

"We better get back on the highway," was all he said. They lifted me up and over the fence with no apparent effort, scaling it themselves without a fault.

I eyed the Impala warily. It remained deceptively motionless.

Dean slid in with a disgusted grunt, fuming visibly.

Sam's: "You smell like a sewer," didn't help things much.

For a second, I thought Dean was going to punch him.

"It's best if we go back. We don't know what else the ghost might pull over here," Sam said, probably for my benefit.

I nodded, leaning against the seat of the car. The adrenaline hadn't really left me yet.

We reached the hotel in silence. The doorman glared suspiciously at Dean's disheveled state, but let us in, nonetheless.

I collapsed on my bed, exhausted. I hoped this wouldn't happen as often as I suspected it did with the Winchesters.

Before falling asleep, I vaguely wondered where Castiel was.

I woke slightly later than usual in the morning. I rushed through my daily routine, and poked my head into the adjoining room.

Dean was a prostrate lump on his bed, seeming almost peaceful in his sleep.

Sam was working on his own laptop, the quiet clicking of keys the only sound in the room.

He grinned at me, patting the space beside him. I sat beside him tentatively, glancing at the screen.

"'Morning," I greeted him in a hushed tone, mindful of Dean.

"Morning." He looked at me speculatively. "I've been following up on your research. Constance was cremated, so we can't burn the bones. Good work on that, by the way."

I blushed at his praise. "Thank you."

It wasn't just for the compliment.

"I'll be going again tonight. You're welcome to come, if you want."

I blinked in surprise. "What about Dean?"

"He'll be here, trying to find any physical remnant of her we can torch. Actually, it's better if you stay with Dean. It'll be safer for you."

Stay alone with Dean? I'd rather take my chances with Constance.

"I'd rather come with you," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

_Please let me come_, I pleaded silently.

"Alright," he agreed easily.

Dean awoke with a groan at that moment. He blearily eyed the two of us, and then ambled into the bathroom.

I could hear the sound of water running.

I wondered again where Castiel was. We sat in amicable silence, waiting for Dean to come out.

He appeared looking a lot more energized than before, promptly ordering breakfast.

We ate quickly, Sam typing away on his laptop.

I offered to help, and we started work. The day passed pleasantly, consisting of my talking to Sam while Dean sat and listened.

Night fell, and Dean left, presumably to a bar, according to Sam, who knew his brother well.

Sam got into the Impala, and I followed him.

My uneasiness grew the closer we got to Centennial Highway.

"Shouldn't you tell Dean where we are?"

Sam shrugged, unconcerned. "He'll understand."

I let the matter drop.

And then I turned cold. Someone, or some_thing_, was sitting next to me.

Sam hadn't noticed yet. "S-Sam," I stammered.

He turned around, then, eyes widening in shock. Constance Welch was an inch away from me.

He futilely tried to open the door. It was jammed. There was no way out.

My heart hammered in my chest as she surveyed me with cold, empty eyes.

"I'll deal with you later," she promised, and lunged for Sam.

I screamed as the car swerved out of control. A small part of my mind that was somehow unconnected to our plight was thinking: _Dean will kill us._

At least, if Constance didn't do the job first. I lurched forward, trying vainly to pull her off of Sam. She sent me careening into the backseat, head snapping into the interior.

I pulled forward, nonetheless, trying to push Constance away from Sam.

She snarled at me, punching me in the stomach. All the breath whooshed out of me.

"Y-you can't kill me," Sam was rasping. "I'm not unfaithful."

"You will be," she said, and jabbed him in the chest.

I tried to reach for my gun, but she caught the movement, and her other hand fastened around my throat.

I wheezed, what little breath I had left quickly disappearing.

We were both going to die. Sam was choking now, and my eyes were rolling back in my head.

That was when we heard the sound of a gunshot.

Constance shrieked and vanished as she came in contact with the rock salt.

"You idiots," Dean hissed, wrenching the door open and pulling us out onto the grass on the side.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me where you'd gone?"

I couldn't answer him even if I had my breath. My stomach heaved and my head spun.

Sam seemed to have recovered quite fast. Somebody helped me up.

I realized it was Dean when he pulled me to my feet.

"You OK, kid?" He asked me, propping me against the car so I could lean against it for support.

"Gimme a minute," I gasped. "I will be."

"What'd she do?" He demanded of Sam.

"Uh, punched her, I think, in the stomach. And tried to strangle her." I fingered the skin around my throat, grimacing.

He looked at me concernedly.

Dean eyed me critically. "Huh. You'll be fine, kid. First time's the worst."

If I didn't know any better, I would've thought his tone was sympathetic.

He glared at Sam. "You and I will talk after this."

Sam sniffed, apparently not bothered. "I have an idea."

"I hate your ideas," Dean groused. Sam ignored him.

"This is Constance's home. We drive the car in, she comes inside, and we try and find something that belonged to her."

Dean snorted. "Suicidal."

"It's all we've got." He countered.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate your ideas?"

"Yes. Several times."

Dean got into the driver's seat. Sam and I followed. He drove the car into the house, the splintering sound of wood breaking loud in my ears.

We got out slowly. It worked like a charm.

Constance appeared in a trice, and had us flattened against the wall, wedged in by a meter-long table.

She was advancing towards us now. And this time, I didn't think we would be saved.

Dean grunted angrily beside me. "You suck, Sam."

"Yeah, I know."

And then two small children appeared on top of the rotting staircase.

"You've finally come home to us, Mommy," they said in perfect sync.

Constance froze.

They slowly descended the stairs, inching towards the tormented ghost while we watched in amazement.

And in a motion so quick I almost missed it, they wrapped their arms around the woman in white.

Their forms shimmered, and suddenly they were gone, leaving nothing behind except the steady drip-drip of water collecting in the aging wood.

Somehow, I knew they wouldn't be back.


	15. Can You Stand The Rain?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**I decided to do a Castiel PoV chapter today. **

**Warning: It's a bit choppy, since Castiel's take on things is pretty challenging to write, and I'm suffering a pretty bad case of writer's block as it is.**

**I'm not sure when I'll be able to post chapter sixteen, since school is starting on the 2nd, but I'll try my best to put it up tomorrow!**

**Chapter name borrowed from the band 'New Edition'.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**On with it, shall we?**

(Castiel PoV)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN-CAN YOU STAND THE RAIN?

I surveyed the small town before me, teeming with humans. A thousand thoughts, a thousand wishes, a thousand urges. A mix of emotions- anger, happiness, boredom, lassitude, pleasure, sadness, all combining to form something that was intricate and complex in it's very simplicity- humanity.

I contemplated the humans. One particular human.

_The girl._

How was I to describe her? What was I to say?

That even her beauty had delicateness, a... fragility? That she was teetering on the edge of her sanity, on the verge of falling off of it?

That she might break at any second, given the slightest push? That she was struggling, _striving_, fighting for control?

Control against what?

She was hiding something, and it would be the destruction of her. I had gauged that much.

I had been ordered to protect her. But how was I to protect her when the threat was Odette herself?

It was gnawing at her insides. Twisting her essence into absolute misery, agony.

Her thoughts were perturbing me. Sweet, pure, innocent as they were, they were laced with grief. Laced with grief so strong it was almost _tangible_, as if I could taste her pain.

It wasn't that she didn't want to tell us. It seemed as if she literally _couldn't_.

I could not cause her harm, not when she was going through so much. Had gone through so much.

I'd lived centuries. Centuries of watching man rise and fall countless times, get back up again, and again, and again.

Stood by as they stagnated, grew complacent, wallowed.

Watched as the mightiest of nations had been razed to the ground because of simple hate, anger, and sheer overconfidence.

People ripped apart for nothing but prejudice.

And I had never, in eons, come across a human or angel so utterly gentle, so sweet, so beautiful, and good, than this little human child and I knew I would never find one again.

Never come across such grief and pain and sadness, which dwelled in her.

How was I to describe her soul?

It was beyond words.

Odette pulsated with light, with purity, with forgiveness, mercy, love, innocence to the point of naiveté, with every emotion that made me accept, finally, the last order that God had given us. To love humans more than we loved him.

I had followed Him. Obeyed his every word. But I'd never understood. Not really. Never had been able to love them. Never could have been able to love humans.

Never understood why Father had loved them so much.

I did now. Humans were works of art. Beauty in its cruelty, faith in its disbelief, hope in its despair. Light in its darkness.

For every atrocity man committed, for the millions of humans that were a dark stain on Earth that would burn in Hell for their sins, as long as there was Odette there was hope for humanity.

She had blinded me with her radiance.

She had shocked me to my core, so much so that I had not noticed the striations, the thickly sown strands in her soul.

I noticed now.

Odette?

She didn't believe it herself. Didn't believe she was beautiful, in every sense of the word, in the _real_ sense of the word, at all.

She thought she was _guilty_. A monster.

I'd read her thoughts, seen her mind. It was bleak. Deserted. She was in torture, stuffing her pain down as deep as it would go, almost into numbness.

Almost.

It was part of her very psyche, part of her soul, woven into the threads of her very being, all of it. The pain, the hurt, the sorrow, the regret, the shame, the loneliness, the all-consuming, fiery, scorching, _grief__._ Burnt into her awareness.

It was as much a part of her as her heart was.

She truly believed it.

It was a component of her soul, a major one, and in some sick, perverted order of things, made it even more beautiful.

As if it wasn't enough already.

It was there in her. Constantly running across her mind.

_Leave me._

_Leave me to die._

_I ruin everything I come across._

_I'm a danger. A menace. I'll be the death of you. _

_I couldn't protect what was mine. I can't even protect myself._

She writhed with it, with her crippling agony.

_So leave me. _

_Leave me and don't look back_.

As if I could. As if I was _allowed_ to.

_Forgive me, for I have sinned._

Almost laughable, that the girl could ever hurt anyone. Anything.

_Who are you asking forgiveness from? There is no one left to help. Not anymore._

Her desolateness was staggering.

But it was what she had directed at me that was alarming.

_I don't deserve your compassion_, she had thought, _not if you knew what I've done._

I would never be able to forget the utter self-hatred she had felt at the time.

I'd seen it, seen it and felt it as keenly as Odette had.

And I understood what it was like to be her.

It was irony in it's cruelest form, that the girl who was the epitome of humanity's strength, believed she was a monster. A demon. A murderer.

That the world's purest, best, most beautiful human was absolutely _miserable_.

It was eating at her, her misplaced guilt, and one day, it would consume her. This I knew.

I had to help her.

I tilted my face up to the sky.

_Father. Tell me what to do._


	16. The Undead Shall Feast

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**I pulled my prettiest, so here it is! Chapter sixteen is up! **

**This chapter's a bit rushed, since I'm hard-pressed for time. So….it might be a bit….iffy. **

**The name of this chapter is borrowed from the band 'Cannibal Corpse'. Funny how most of their song names fit Supernatural, and yet the song itself is just plain….. creepy. And not in a good way. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! **

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER SIXTEEN- THE UNDEAD SHALL FEAST

"Where do the coordinates lead again?" Sam's voice tugged at my sleepy brain, successfully rousing me.

There was something…_off_ about his voice. Perhaps a bite of frustration, maybe even anger?

"Lost Creek, Colorado," was Dean's short answer.

I already knew not to argue with Dean at times like these. Apparently, Sam didn't.

I shook off my blanket. It was only now that I realized it smelt of leather and ash.

An odd combination, but pleasant, nonetheless.

I glanced at Castiel, who occupied the extreme right side of the Impala's backseat.

He stared back at me fixedly. I averted my gaze at once, unnerved.

Sensing my movement, Sam looked back at me.

"Good, you're up. We've almost reached."

I blinked slowly. "Another case."

"Yes," came Dean's abrupt voice.

I wanted to ask how they'd found one so fast, but staring at Dean's tight-lipped expression, I decided against it, and thought of a safer question.

"What's this one about?"

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

It was Sam who answered me.

"Campers have been disappearing for a pretty long while now in Black Ridge. Everyone thinks it's a bear attack, but it just might be something more. Worth checking out."

By this time, Dean had driven into Lost Creek and parked the car near the Ranger's Visiting Centre in Black Ridge.

Sam got out and opened the Impala's trunk, fishing out fake ID's.

Castiel chose to speak, then.

"Do you require my assistance on this case?"

Dean scowled. "No we don't, angel."

Sam was more polite. "Thanks for asking, Castiel. We'll call if we need any help."

Dean scoffed behind me.

"Very well." Castiel glanced at each of us impassively, and promptly vanished.

We moved inside.

"Wait here." Dean ordered.

"Let's quiz Ranger…. ah," Dean read the nameplate over the nearby room, "Wilkinson, shall we?"

He grinned at Sam, looking a lot less forbidding than he had a second ago.

"First time we're playing park rangers," Sam commented, as they went further down the hall.

I sat on the hard metal chair, massaging my head with my fingers.

This was going to take some getting used to.

A curl of uneasiness unfurled in my stomach. I barely knew Dean and Sam, and I'd placed my life in their hands.

Them and Castiel. The angel's stern face flashed through my brain, and my fingers started trembling.

I was afraid.

To distract myself, I listened to the Ranger's conversation with the brothers.

"Say, are you friends with that Hailey girl?" Wilkinson's gruff baritone sounded wary.

"Uh…..yes, that's right! We're friends of Hailey." Dean was quick on the uptake.

"Came in here half an hour ago, demanding a search for her brother," he grumbled.

"I'm sure he'll turn up in a couple of days," he continued.

"Well, we'll be sure to tell her that," Sam assured him. "Thank you for your time."

They moved out into the hallway.

I stood up and followed them outside, slipping into the Impala.

"To Hailey's house we go," Dean said with a flourish.

"You got the address?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dean."

I suppressed a smile.

We reached a nondescript house, painted a creamy yellow and white.

Dean rang the doorbell twice, in quick succession.

A red-haired, sallow-skinned girl opened the door.

"Yes?" She looked at Dean and Sam curiously, sparing only a glance for me.

"Are you Hailey Collins?"

She nodded, quirking an eyebrow.

"The Ranger's Visiting Centre sent us to help. Your brother's missing, I believe."

The lies dripped off Dean's tongue smoothly, and without a pause.

She opened the door.

"All right, come on in."

We trooped inside. Hailey led us into her dining room, where a lanky, dark-haired boy sat, pale and unkempt.

"Hailey, did your brother seem in any way scared or alarmed before he went missing?"

Sam started his questioning immediately.

"No, he didn't. He was completely fine. He sent me emails, videos, and then three days ago, he just disappeared."

The circles under her eyes were very apparent at that moment.

"Miss. Collins, is it possible that your brother just didn't want to email you? Maybe he's just having fun and forgot to call, or something."

"No!" She said a little more forcefully. "Tommy would never do that. He called me everyday."

"Look." She brought out her computer and played her brother's video.

Sam's eyes narrowed as we watched.

He'd obviously seen something.

Dean interpreted his expression for what it was and finished the interrogation.

"We'll be out in the woods tomorrow."

"So will I. I have to find him." Hailey answered.

We left the Collins' home and reserved two rooms at the nearest decent hotel.

Sam replayed Tommy's video once we reached our rooms, frame by frame.

"Look. Can you see it?"

Dean and I both leaned closer to the screen and watched as a dark, shadowy creature flitted across the canvas of the tent.

Dean grunted. "Well, isn't this a tricky one. I say we go to a bar and ask all the people here about these supposed 'bear attacks'."

"You," he pinned me with his stare, "will stay _here_."

I nodded rapidly.

Sam looked at me apologetically. "We'll be back pretty soon. Dean doesn't like going to bars in the daytime, anyway."

He smiled at me, gently closing the door after him.

I stared at the empty room, not knowing what to do.

I decided to research. It had helped with the previous case, and it would be a useful way to pass the time.

I had a lot of time on my hands.

Too much time for a person who was desperate to forget.

I logged on to my computer, searching out the deaths in Lost Creek.

I was almost finished when Dean walked in, making me twitch nervously.

It would be even more awkward without Sam as a buffer.

He gave a cursory look at my Mac.

"Researching again?"

His tone was indecipherable.

"Yeah."

I breathed out in relief when Sam returned.

He too, looked at my computer.

"I found out about the deaths."

I started lamely.

"Here."

I pulled out a sheaf of newspaper articles.

"People have been disappearing, and I suppose dying, every 23 years in Blackwater. There haven't been any survivors, except this guy," I pulled out his picture, "Mr. Shaw, back in 1959."

"Huh." Sam huffed in surprise.

Dean continued to examine the newspaper clippings.

I chewed my lip.

"Well, we'd better go see him, then," Sam grinned at me.

"Nice work."

I relaxed.

Dean said nothing, but swiped the car keys from the table and stalked outside.

I could hear the Impala's engine roar.

~Supernatural~

I looked at Mr. Shaw's decrepit cabin with some trepidation.

I elected to stay in the car while Dean and Sam questioned him.

I huddled into a corner in the backseat.

Castiel suddenly reappeared, making me squeak in alarm.

"Uh, hey, Castiel," I greeted him, tongue-tied, as usual.

"They have the right man," he said in return.

I blinked at him.

"You'll find what's hunting these people."

He studied me gravely.

"Be careful. The woods here have led many astray. See that you don't become one of them."

Castiel disappeared as abruptly as he'd arrived, leaving me with my own thoughts and his grim statement.


	17. Cannibal Corpse

**Disclaimer-I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**I'm on a roll! Chapter seventeen is up! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**I have a thing for putting up Dean PoV's. ;)**

**They're just so easy to write! **

**Chapter name borrowed from…..the band 'Cannibal Corpse'. **

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN- CANNIBAL CORPSE

Why did she have to be so damn _nice?_

Yeah, yeah, real meaningful thoughts before hunting down a rabid, sadistic monster.

So sue me.

The _'she'_ in question was Odette, of course.

We'd got saddled with a teenage kid.

A frigging teenage _girl_.

Did I mention she was fourteen?

True, kid was supposed to be the biggest demon-magnet around, according to Pretty Boy. The end result?

One more person along for the ride.

Whoop-de-do.

We'd gained some headway with the mystery monster, at least.

Mr. Shaw'd given us a pretty detailed description.

Which we wouldn't have gotten if not for Odette and her research.

Since when was she allowed to research, anyway?

I thought that was College Boy's job.

So, there we were, marching into the woods, (Sam was sorta slouching along, really) with a rookie.

A _girl_ rookie.

Hallay-flaming-looyah.

At least she wasn't fussy about clothes.

Plain black tank top, khaki shorts and brown hiking boots.

Didn't really make much of a difference. She would have looked drop-dead (excuse the pun) gorgeous in a dishrag.

Sam didn't seem to mind her. Hell, he even _liked_ her.

I fully intended to ignore Odette.

But Odette wasn't making it easy

Dragging kids along on hunts.

Suicide mission.

It was at this point that we ran into the Hailey chick (she was kinda cute) her brother and a Ranger in khaki tighty-whities (shorts, for those of you who don't know).

This day just got better and better.

"What're you doing here?" she demanded.

"Same thing you are. Hunting the bear."

She eyed me suspiciously.

"You have no supplies, and you're going to hike in Biker boots and jeans."

Her tone was stiff with disapproval.

I looked at her incredulously.

"Sweetheart, I don't do shorts."

"Roy's already taking us," she fired back.

"We just want to help," I held up my hands.

She scowled and stalked away.

Charming.

Mr. Tighty-Whitey (or was it Tighty-Khaki?) glared at us and walked on ahead.

Sam was giving me the time-old pissy face.

"What? Do we have to babysit, now, too, Dean?"

I sighed. "If we don't, they could get killed out there, Sammy."

He grunted and trudged up the path.

Odette scurried after him, giving me a nervous look.

The kid was guilt-tripping me! _Me!_

What's worse, it actually worked.

..

Tramping through the underbrush was boring.

Odette had latched onto Sam's side.

Never knew College Boy was good with kids.

So there I was, walking along, until Roy pushed me back.

"Wh-"

He tugged at the ground, and a bear trap shot up.

"It's a bear trap. You might want to watch your steppin', _Ranger."_

Ouch.

Ten minutes later, Hailey got in on my face again. (Not that I minded)

_._"What is your deal?" she poked a finger at me.

I glared at her and decided to end the rigmarole.

"All right, we're not Rangers. Whatever's hunting these people is not normal, and I think you know it. We just want to stop it, so let us do our work, lady."

"Fine."

She moved away.

Finally!

We resumed trudging along the path, until we caught sight of a tent.

A ripped-up, bloody, monster-attacked-it tent.

Hailey looked as if she were about to collapse.

Over my shoulder, I could see Odette's face turn green.

Greenhorns. Delicate, the lot of them.

This was just peachy.

Now we had to explain everything.

Damn it.

~Supernatural~

I flipped through Dad's journal, and finally found what I was looking for.

I beckoned Sam over, scowling when he pulled Odette along.

"I think I know what our monster is. Look."

I tapped the page. "It's a wendigo."

Odette blanched. "You mean the cannibals?"

I narrowed my eyes. "How did you know that?"

"Um….I read about it. Some Native American site."

I huffed.

What a geek.

"Yeah, well, they used to be human once. At one point, they were forced to eat human flesh to survive, and it turned 'em into super-fast, super-strong sons of bitches."

"You have to burn it, not shoot."

Sam nodded, glowering at the camp-fire.

He always had been a drama queen.

I clapped him on the shoulder and started drawing the Anasazi symbols around the site.

Tricky little things, them.

"You stay inside the circle," I told the boy and Hailey. "It'll keep you safe."

"Yeah, stay inside the magic circle, huh?"

Mr. Tightey-Whitey got in on the act.

"Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy."

It was then that we heard it.

"HELP!"

"HELP!"

Odette jumped up at once, but I pushed her back in the center of the circle.

The voice was scratchy, sorta like a chainsaw.

A rusty, unused chainsaw.

Smart monster.

It was trying to lure us out.

I told the others so, but the idiot, Roy, wouldn't listen, and marched off to help the supposed 'person'.

That was the last time I saw him. Alive, anyway.

~Supernatural~

Next morning, we hiked through the woods, when Roy's body crashed on top of Hailey. (Gross, much?)

She shrieked like a freaking howler monkey, then something flashed by the tree.

An evil something.

Which promptly clocked me one in the head.

Everything went black.

~Supernatural~

"Dean!"

"Dean!"

Two voices were calling my name.

I woke up to being cut off from a rope, with a killer headache.

Great. Just great.

"You all right?" Sam asked me.

"Fine." I grunted back.

Some-one moaned behind me.

A blood-spattered kid was on the floor, Hailey and Ben swarming around him like ants.

Tommy, I supposed.

"Get them out of here," I jerked my head at Sam.

"I'll try and bait it out."

Odette was peering anxiously at me (why did her eyes have to be so big, anyway?)

Sam opened his mouth to object, but I glared at him, tossing a flare gun his way.

He led the others off, while I shouted in the tunnel.

""Come on out, you son of a bitch!"

"You want some white meat, big boy? Come and get it!"

I distinctly heard something moving behind me, and I high-tailed it out onto the trail.

But then it changed course.

There was no sign of the wendigo anywhere.

Not a sound.

I heard a gun-shot a little way off, and I cursed.

Of _course_ it had gone for Sam.

I ran down the tunnel at breakneck speed in the direction of the growling.

It grew louder and louder, until I was confronted with the wendigo's ugly back.

_Not_ a pretty sight, to put it mildly.

I shot it straight between the shoulder-blades. It sunk to its knees, (do wendigos even have knees)?

About time the thing died already.


	18. Bridge Over Troubled Waters

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**So here it is! Chapter 18 is up!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :D**

**I think everyone knows from where I borrowed this chapter's name. ;)**

**No prizes for guessing exactly which **_**presence **_**(or person, hint hint) Odette senses in this chapter. :P**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN- BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATERS

"So, Sherriff Devins, isn't Sophie Carlton the third drowning victim whose body hasn't been recovered?"

I could hear Dean's smooth voice as he posed as a federal wildlife officer.

I didn't think I'd ever be able to lie with such ease. Or conviction.

I could hear Jake Devin's voice clearly drifting out into the hallway where I sat.

"It's a tragedy, believe me, I know, but we haven't found anything in the lake. I did a sonar sweep myself. Besides, it will drain away soon enough, the local dam is leaking."

"All right, then. Thank you for your time." Sam seemed slightly impatient.

They came out in a hurry. I stood up at once, legs tingling from sitting still so long.

We, or rather Sam and Dean, were working a case in Wisconsin.

Three people had disappeared in Lake Manitoc, and none of their bodies had ever been found.

Dean was sure it was something paranormal.

We were almost out of the Sherriff's office when we came across a petite, brown-haired woman, and a chubby-faced boy with ginger-blond hair.

Her son, I presumed.

I smiled at the boy.

He did not return it.

I recognized the haunted look in his eyes.

It was much too familiar.

Dean stopped and grinned widely at the woman, who was quite pretty.

Behind me, Sam gave a long-suffering sigh.

Sherriff Devins himself came out right that moment.

"Ah, I see you've met my daughter and grandson."

"This is Andrea, and Lucas."

"Pleasure," Dean said.

Andrea glanced at us curiously. "Dad, what's going on?"

"We're investigating the death of Sophie Carlton at Lake Manitoc," Sam supplied.

Lucas started at the mention of the lake, but stayed quiet.

Andrea blanched. "That's where my husband died," she whispered.

Devins' face changed. "You should go, Andrea, and take Lucas with you. This is serious business"

"But-"

"Go!" His voice was sharper now.

Andrea glared at him, picked up her son and promptly left.

"Odd," Sam remarked as we got into the Impala.

"Ya think?" Dean asked sarcastically.

We made it to the hotel in ten minutes, thanks to Dean's reckless driving.

Sam pulled out his laptop at once. "Hey, Odette, want to help me with the research?"

Dean stiffened, but said nothing.

I looked at him apprehensively.

"Sure," I sat next to him, and we started work.

Dean walked out of the room, shutting the door with a bang.

I cringed at the loud noise.

Three hours later, we had all the information we needed.

It was also the time Dean decided to return.

"So, what's the scoop?" he asked, crashing onto his bed.

"Well, six people have disappeared over the past thirty-five years, so something's definitely up, and Odette figured something out, too."

Sam looked at me expectantly.

I shifted, uncomfortable under Dean's gaze.

"Uh, the kid, Lucas, he apparently saw his father drown, in the lake."

Dean's eyebrow rose.

"Guess he'd be interesting to talk to, wouldn't he?" he mused.

"Let's go find him, then."

Dean snatched up his keys, while I hesitantly followed him.

~Supernatural~

We found Lucas at the park with Andrea, sitting quietly on a bench, sketching diligently.

Sam and Dean walked up to his mother, politely asking permission to speak to him.

She eyed us suspiciously.

"He doesn't talk anymore. He stopped after my husband died. All he does is draw all day. You're welcome to try, though."

Dean moved forward, but I stopped him.

"Wait."

"What?" He demanded irritably.

"You heard Andrea. He doesn't talk anymore. If you try, he'll probably get scared. Why don't you let me have a go?"

Dean's eyes narrowed to slits.

"She's got a point," Sam said helpfully.

He crossed his arms. "It better work."

I let go of a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and walked over to Lucas.

Something in the way he chewed his pencil, lower lip jutting out just a little, the way he rubbed his hair absent-mindedly reminded me of another little boy.

I froze.

Thinking about it wouldn't help me, and neither would it help Lucas.

I crouched down so he was up to my level, conscious of Sam and Dean's presence.

"Hi, Lucas. I'm Odette." I kept my voice low and soothing.

He gave no sign that he had heard me.

I suddenly had an idea.

"Can I borrow that?" I asked, pointing at his sheet and crayons.

He looked at me blankly, but let me tug it away from him.

I picked up a pencil, and with a few strokes here and there, drew three people.

My pencil faltered across the page as I thought of the fourth, then stopped altogether.

I handed it back to him. "Look. This is my family."

He took it, staring expressionlessly.

"I get it. I saw some stuff that can't be explained, too, and it sort of messes with your head, doesn't it? But you have to remember that there are people here to help you, and if you know something we don't, we'd really appreciate it if you could tell us. I'm not forcing you. I know how hard it can be."

I patted his shoulder and stood up.

Andrea was there in a trice.

"I think we should be going now, if you're done."

I nodded and moved away.

Andrea squeaked in surprise as Lucas ran after me.

He handed me his own drawing.

I blinked at the boy. "Thanks, Lucas."

He trotted away, grabbing a stunned Andrea's hand.

It was a picture of a house.

~Supernatural~

Sam burst into our hotel room.

"Will Carlton's dead."

Dean and I were on our feet at once.

"I think it knows the lake is draining. Whatever's hunting these people, it knows it doesn't have much time left." Sam continued.

Dean grunted in acknowledgement. "Bill Carlton must be mixed up in it somehow. Both his children were targeted, and even his godson, Lucas' dad."

"Probably," Sam agreed.

We reached Bill Carlton's house as fast as we could.

The old man was sitting in front of the lake, his leathery face weary and crinkled.

"Mr. Carlton," Dean flipped out his badge.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Bill turned his face towards us then.

"I just lost my daughter. Now something has killed my son. I've already talked to the authorities. I'd like to be alone."

We had no choice but to return to the hotel.

I started as I saw Lucas' picture once again.

"Look," I brought the sheet under Sam's nose.

"He drew Bill Carlton's house."

~Supernatural~

The next morning saw us at Andrea Barr's house.

She tensed the instant she saw us.

"We'd like to see Lucas again." I told her.

She scowled. "I don't think you can. He's been drawing all night since you talked to him."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks.

"Please. If you want to stop the deaths around here, please let us talk to him," Dean added.

She stomped upstairs, which contrasted sharply when she softly opened Lucas' door.

"Luke, honey, somebody's here to see you."

He did not turn his head.

I stepped into his room slowly, sinking down onto the floor.

Dean and Sam stood at the doorjamb.

I handed his drawing back to him. "Can you tell us why you drew this, Lucas?"

I received no answer.

I cleared my throat.

"You're scared, I know. I understand. When I was younger, I watched some pretty bad stuff happen to some people I care about, and it really, really scared me, too."

I could hear the twin inhalations of surprise from Sam and Dean.

"I didn't want to talk about it, either. I still don't want to talk about it. But I know my family would want me to be strong. I think about that a lot, when I'm afraid. Maybe your dad would have wanted you to be brave, too."

He raised his head and stared at me, and the resemblance to the other little boy was so strong in his pained, confused eyes that it cut me to the quick.

I glanced around the room jerkily. It was strange; I could _sense _something in the room. A presence that was somehow familiar. Perhaps even a person.

Lucas snapped me out of my reverie by slipping another sheet of paper into my hand.

I looked at it, and then at him, the echoes of _my little boy_still etched on his face.

"Thank you, " I whispered.


	19. The Watery Depths Of Oblivion

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Chapter 19 is up!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :D**

**I'll be skipping Phantom Traveler, 'cuz I really don't think it's necessary. Besides, I'm really, really anxious to do Bloody Mary. ;)**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER NINETEEN- THE WATERY DEPTHS OF OBLIVION

The Winchesters had been staring at me oddly ever since my plea to Lucas.

Sam with concern, Dean with suspicion.

I wished they would stop.

Hoping to distract myself, I examined Lucas' picture again.

It depicted a white church and a neighboring house.

What was most baffling, however, was the boy drawn in front of the house, riding a red bicycle.

"That is your desired destination," an unmistakable voice remarked.

The car swerved as Dean lost his grip on the steering wheel.

My ears turned pink as Dean cursed rather….. creatively.

"Frigging angels," he finished with a glare in the direction of where Castiel was pointing.

My own heart was hammering at an impossibly fast rate with the shock of seeing Castiel simply….materialize.

But, as it was, Castiel was right.

The church _was _the same as the one Lucas had drawn.

We stepped out, and rang the doorbell of the tiny house.

An old woman with candyfloss-like white, fluffy hair hobbled to the door.

Sam showed her his fake badge, and she let us in.

Castiel remained in the car, silent and inscrutable.

We walked into the living room, and Dean immediately noticed something.

A picture of a boy with a much younger, yet still recognizable Bill Carlton.

The same boy Lucas had drawn.

"Miss, who is this?" he asked, picking up the photo.

"That's my son, Peter," she quavered, eyes rheumy and lost.

"He went missing thirty-five years ago."

~Supernatural~

"So, Bill Carlton probably killed Peter Sweeney, and now he's haunting the lake and killing everyone who's related to him." Sam's brow furrowed in concentration.

"Looks like it," Dean answered. "We better get to him pronto."

But we weren't fast enough.

By the time we reached, Bill was rowing his boat in the middle of the lake.

"Bill, come back!" Dean bellowed.

"You're going to get yourself killed!" Sam echoed.

We were too late.

In a split second, the boat exploded, and Bill Carlton disappeared.

For good.

~Supernatural~

"How 'bout I give you an ultimatum? I know you're pretending. You either get the hell out of my town, or I cuff you and drag you to jail."

Dean swallowed noisily. "Getting the hell out of town sounds good."

The sheriff had somehow figured out that Dean and Sam were not federal wildlife officers, which was why we were leaving Wisconsin in such haste.

I'd nodded off somewhere along the line, and I woke up to an argument.

"The case is finished, Dean, drop it."

"I don't know, Sam, I just have this feeling it isn't."

"Bill Carlton is dead! Let it go!"

"Go back," came a third voice.

The car jerked.

"Damn it, Castiel, stop doing that!" Dean grumbled irritably.

He received a blank blue stare in return.

We snuck into town carefully, painstakingly.

Castiel had gone again, leaving us only an order.

Or advice, depending on how you looked at it.

"Go back to the house."

"Go back to the house," Dean muttered, sarcasm dripping from his every syllable. "Frigging angels and their frigging cryptic statements."

"He was only trying to help," I surprised myself by saying it.

Why was I defending him?

I regretted it instantly as Dean shot me a hostile look.

We slipped into Andrea's house, to be met by a frantic Lucas.

"What's the matter, Lucas?"

He pointed wildly at the stairs.

We ran up them, two at a time, to see water streaming from Andrea's bathroom.

Lake water.

We struggled futilely with the door, until Sam kicked it open.

Andrea was writhing in the bathtub; the water turned a sickly green.

Sam plunged his hands in the bathtub, pulling at her hand.

With a Herculean effort, he finally tugged an exhausted Andrea out, gasping on the floor.

~Supernatural~

"It said 'come play with me'," Andrea's voice shook, along with the rest of her body.'

"I don't understand why you were targeted," Sam said in frustration.

"Can I see your photo album?" Dean asked unexpectedly.

She looked at him as if he were crazy, but brought it out, nonetheless.

I instantly saw what he meant.

There was a picture of Jake Devins with Peter Sweeney.

~Supernatural~

Lucas grabbed my hand and pulled me along, until we reached a sandy spot by the lake.

Dean and Sam were behind me, silent and watchful, along with a panicky, confused Andrea.

"Is this it, Lucas?" I asked him.

He looked at me.

I nodded at Sam.

They started digging, and then their spade hit metal.

Buried in the sand was Peter Sweeney's faded red bicycle.

Seconds later, I felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed to my neck.

~Supernatural~

Andrea screamed behind me, and Sam and Dean tensed, ready for combat.

But they couldn't do anything, not when there was a gun to my head.

"Didn't I tell you to leave town, boys?" Jake said coldly.

"And now look, I'll have to kill you."

"You son of a-"

The gun pressed deeper.

"It was an accident. We meant it to be a joke. Bill and I, we ducked Peter under the lake for too long. We didn't mean to drown him."

"So we hid the body, buried the cycle. Shame, you won't be breathing much longer to tell everyone."

His finger curled around the trigger and I closed my eyes, trying not to tremble.

But then, Lucas was dragged into the lake by a translucent hand.

Devins dropped the gun in shock, and Andrea shrieked once more.

Dean and Sam jumped in at once, and I followed.

Something grabbed at my ankles, but I stubbornly shook off the cold fingers, searching for Lucas, Lucas who was dying, Lucas who reminded me of _him_.

Sam and Dean came up empty.

Then Jake walked into the lake.

"Take me, Peter. Leave my grandson. He has nothing to do with this."

My hand touched something warm and small, a foot.

I hung on, and pulled Lucas onto shore, while Jake Devins descended into the lake.

Dean and Sam emerged as well, pulling me to a better position with a steady hand on my back as I heaved up all the water I'd ingested.

Dean kept his hand there too.

~Supernatural~

"I don't know how to thank you. You saved my life, and Lucas' too."

Andrea looked at us gratefully.

"Don't mention it," Dean smirked.

"Thanks, Odette," Lucas smiled at me.

"You're welcome," I croaked, my throat still sore from the salt water.

I wondered if they would ever know that they would be dead if not for one angel who'd told us to go back.

I supposed not.

I glanced at Lucas again, his ginger-blond hair in disarray.

His eyes were still bitter, still haunted. My heart sank once again.

I could hear Dean quite clearly.

"Alright, if you're goin' to be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it back to me one more time."

I could hear Lucas' excited squeak. "Zeppelin rules!"

"That's right, up high!"

I hid a smile, just as Sam stifled a laugh.

There was hope for Lucas yet.


	20. Let It Bleed

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Chapter 20 is up!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**I just love Bloody Mary, so here it is!**

**Chapter name borrowed from the band 'The Used'.**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY- LET IT BLEED

"_This is your next case, Dean. I believe it is in the place you call Toledo, Ohio."_

"_Damn it, Castiel! We can find our own hunts!" Dean's face was reddening rapidly. _

_Sam tried to placate him. "C'mon, Dean, there might be people in trouble. Do you want to let them die?"_

That was how we found ourselves in the Toledo morgue, trying to view Steven Shoemaker's body.

The attendant was unwilling, to say the least.

"Why do you want to see the poor guy, anyway?"

Dean indicated himself and Sam. " We're the uh… med students, our professor wanted us to see Shoemaker's corpse, its part of our paper."

Sam stealthily slipped some money onto the table.

"What about her?"

He jerked his head towards me.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, and I flinched.

Sam stepped in. "We're sort of responsible for her, which is why she's with us. Odette won't cause you any trouble, I swear."

He slyly slipped another note from Dean's wallet onto the table, ignoring his glare.

"Well, if you're sure. Can't do any harm, I suppose."

"Follow me." The morgue tech got up and left.

Dean scowled at Sam.

"Dude, I earned that money."

Sam stared at him incredulously. "You won it in a poker game."

"So?"

Sam followed the attendant, and I hurried after him, not wanting to be left alone with Dean.

~Supernatural~

"Now, the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding." Sam was quizzing the tech thoroughly.

He pulled back the sheet over Steven's face, and I felt the bile rise in my throat. I coughed to cover it up.

"More than that. They practically liquefied."

Dean frowned. "Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?"

"Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone."

"What's the official cause of death?" Sam was chewing his lip, perplexed.

"Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure."

"What do you mean?" Sam's face looked even more confused.

"Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen."

"The eyes and stuff, what would cause something like that?"

"Capillaries can burst. You see a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims."

"Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?" I tried to curb my nausea at Dean's statement.

"That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor."

"Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh….our paper." Dean covered his minor slip-up easily.

"I'm not really supposed to show you that."

Sam, clearly annoyed, pulled out his wallet.

~Supernatural~

We trotted down the stairs out of the morgue.

I quelled my unease, glad we were finally leaving. I hated morgues.

It dredged up too many memories.

I shook off my fear and focused on Sam, who was talking.

"This might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing."

Dean grunted. "Yeah, that's why the holy tax accountant poofed in and sent us here."

"Uh, I guess you've got a point."

"Exactly."

"All right, let's go talk to the daughter."

At the Shoemaker's house, the funeral was midway, and there was a picture of Steven Shoemaker on the desk.

Everyone was in black, except us.

"I feel like we're underdressed," Dean echoed my sentiments.

We kept walking through the house towards the back.

A man pointed us towards Donna and Lily Shoemaker, who sat in a corner with their friends.

Dean got down to business.

"You must be Donna, right?" He asked the girl with spiky, black hair.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hi, uh-we're really sorry."

Donna nodded shakily. "Thank you."

"I'm Sam, this is Dean, and my sister Odette."

Dean and I both jerked in surprise.

"Dean and I worked with your dad."

Donna looked at her blonde-haired friend, then back at Sam and Dean.

"You did?" She blinked away her tears rapidly.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. This whole thing, I mean a stroke."

Her blonde friend glared at us. "I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now."

"It's okay, Charlie. I'm okay." She seemed to be trying to convince herself more than Charlie, and I wanted to comfort her.

I could sympathize, without sounding shallow and I hated it.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?"

"No," Donna replied quietly.

The small girl turned around.

"That's because it wasn't a stroke." Lily held her head in her hands.

"Lily, don't say that." Donna squeezed her hand.

"What?" Sam's voice sharpened.

"I'm sorry, she's just upset." Donna hugged her sister comfortingly.

An action I'd done so many times, but it had turned out to be too little.

Fortunately, Lily distracted me. "No, it happened because of me."

"Sweetie, it didn't," Donna was worriedly looking at her, now."

"Lily." Sam got down on eye level with her.

"Why would you say something like that?"

"Right before he died, I said it." She looked at him, eyes dark and panicked.

"You said what?"

"Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror."

There was a short, pregnant pause.

"She took his eyes, that's what she does."

"That's not why Dad died, sweetie. This isn't your fault." Donna seemed even more worried now.

Dean blinked. "I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?"

Lily stared at him hopefully. "No, I don't think so."

We moved away from the sisters, Charlie's suspicious gaze boring into my back.

~Supernatural~

Sam pushed the door of the Shoemaker's bathroom open. There was still some dried blood on the floor.

"The Bloody Mary legend… Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?"

"Not that I know of." Dean walked into the bathroom.

Sam stooped to the floor and touched the dry flakes of blood.

"I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it."

"Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening."

"The place where the legend began?"

Dean shrugged and opened the medicine cabinet.

"But according to the legend, the person who says B-" Sam looked at the mirror that was facing him, and closed it.

"The person who says you know what gets it," he continued. "But here-"

"Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah," Dean glanced around the bathroom again.

"Right." Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. According to the legend, you know who scratches your eyes out."

"It's worth checking into."

We left the bathroom, and bumped into Charlie.

"What are you doing up here?" She demanded.

"We, er, we had to go to the bathroom."

"What, all three of you? Who are you?" She placed her hands to her hips.

"Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad." Dean's voice was getting annoyed.

"He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself."

"No, I know, I meant-"

"And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming."

"All right, all right." Sam cut off Dean. "We think something happened to Donna's dad."

"Yeah, a stroke," Charlie replied.

"That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else."

"Like what?" Her eyes flipped to slits.

"Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth."

"So if you're gonna scream, go right ahead," Dean added.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Who are you, cops?"

Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean.

"Something like that," the elder Winchester replied.

"I'll tell you what. Here." Sam reached into his pocket, wrote down his number, and gave it to Charlie.

"If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary…. just give us a call."

~Supernatural~

Dean and Sam headed to the library, while I stayed in our hotel room.

"Why aren't you with them?"

I nearly fell off the bed at the gravelly voice behind me.

"Castiel, you have _got_ to stop doing that," I said as I caught my breath.

"Why aren't you with them?" He repeated, as if I hadn't said a word.

I avoided looking at him. "I don't think Dean wants my help."

He sat down, a few feet away from me, on the bed.

"One of Dean's many characteristics is that he is stubborn. It is both one of his greatest attributes and his greatest flaws. He does not like you, it is true, but did you honestly expect him to?"

I had a hard time meeting his eyes, and when I did, it seemed like he knew far too much.

"No." I hated my admission.

"It's not your fault."

It didn't make me feel any better, but I supposed this was how Castiel comforted people.

"Thanks, Castiel."

There was no answer.

~Supernatural~

Dean and I sat on extreme ends of the sofa, quietly doing research, as Sam slept.

Sam jerked awake, rolling on top of the bed with a start.

I looked at him sadly. I knew the telltale signs of a nightmare, I'd had too many not to.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he stared at Sam. Anyone could see how protective he was of him.

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" Sam muttered, in a sleep-smeared voice.

"Cause I'm an awesome big brother. So, what did you dream about?"

He passed a hand wearily over his eyes. "Lollipops and candy canes."

"Yeah, I bet," Dean scoffed, but his eyes belied his tone. They were much like Donna's had been with Lily, only greater in intensity.

"Did you find anything?"

"Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration?" Sam sat up.

"No, Odette and I," I flushed inwardly as he mentioned me, "have looked at everything. A few local women committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary."

Sam fell back on the bed. "Maybe we just haven't found it yet."

"We've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know….eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary."

Sam's cell phone rang, and as he picked it up, his expression darkened.

~Supernatural~

"They found Jill on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone."

"I'm sorry," I told her, and I meant it.

"And she said it," Charlie sniffled. Dean looked up at Sam. "I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?"

"No, you're not insane," Dean answered.

"Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse." Charlie's voice wobbled.

"Look." Sam's voice was measured, calm. "We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained."

"And we're gonna stop it, but we could use your help." Dean looked at Charlie pointedly.

~Supernatural~

Charlie locked the door of Jill's room, and opened the window to let us in.

Dean lifted me up first, and I ignored the curl of envy as he deftly jumped in himself, Sam following just as easily.

"What did you tell Jill's mom?" I asked Charlie.

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things."

Sam pulled out a digital camera.

"I hate lying to her," Charlie added miserably.

"Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights," Dean told Charlie.

She turned them off, shrouding the room in darkness. "What are you guys looking for?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it," Sam answered.

Sam set the camera to night vision, and aimed it at Dean.

"Do I look like Paris Hilton?" Dean's voice was tetchy.

My lip twitched.

"Aim it at her." He pointed to me.

Sam grinned as he pointed it in my direction.

I smiled properly then, as Sam walked away with the camera, opening Jill's closet door and filmed around her mirror.

"So I don't get it. I mean…. the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?"

Dean gave a noncommittal grunt. "Beats me."

"I want to know why Jill said it in the first place." Dean looked crossly at Charlie.

"It's just a joke," Charlie shrugged.

"Yeah, well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time."

Sam was in the bathroom, filming around the mirror, when he called for us.

We turned to look at him.

"There's a black light in the trunk, right?"

Sam carried the mirror out to Jill's bed, laying it upside down. Dean threw him a black light.

I carefully peeled away the brown paper at the back of the mirror.

Sam shone the light on it, and we saw a handprint and a name.

"Gary Bryman."

"Gary Bryman?" Charlie checked the name.

"You know who that is?"

"No," she answered, puzzled.

We sat outside, in a park, as Sam came up behind us with the information.

"So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry, but nobody got the plates or saw the driver."

"Oh my God," Charlie's face paled.

"What?" I asked her.

"Jill drove that car."

"We need to get back to your friend Donna's house."

Dean's face was hooded.

~Supernatural~

"Linda Shoemaker," I read aloud from the back of Steven Shoemaker's mirror.

"Why are you asking me all this?" Donna looked at us blankly when we asked her about Linda.

"Look, we're sorry, but it's important." Sam looked at her enquiringly.

"Yeah, Linda's my mom, okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave."

"Now, Donna, just listen." Dean tried to reason with her.

"Get out of my house!" Donna's face crumpled and she ran up the stairs.

"Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?" Charlie's eyes widened.

"Maybe," Sam hedged.

"I think I should stick around," Charlie glanced at the stairs.

"All right. Whatever you do, don't-"

Charlie interrupted Dean. "Believe me, I won't say it."

~Supernatural~

Dean typed furiously on the computer, while Sam looked at the bulletin board.

"Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?"

"Yep," Dean did not turn his head. "The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me."

"But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town," Sam objected.

"I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea-"

"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern."

"I know, I was thinking the same thing."

"With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run."

"Both had secrets where people died."

The knot in my stomach tightened.

I spoke in hopes to distract myself.

"Right. I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors- that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that's why it's supposed to be bad luck to break them."

"Right, right." Dean nodded. "So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, they'll kick the bucket."

I swallowed nervously.

"Whether you're the one that summoned her or not, you die." Sam was grim.

"Take a look at this," Dean held up a picture of a handprint and the letters 'TRE'.

"Looks like the same handprint." Sam peered over Dean's shoulder.

"Her name was Mary Worthington- an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

~Supernatural~

Dean and Sam had found out more about Mary Worthington from a detective in Fort Wayne.

Since Mary was cremated, the boys had concluded her spirit was trapped in the mirror before which she'd died, which was currently in a shop in Toledo.

By the time we returned, a distraught Charlie greeted us.

She was babbling. "I'm gonna die, I saw her, I saw her, Donna said it!"

Her eyes were screwed shut.

Sam and Dean covered all the reflective surfaces in the room, while I tried to calm Charlie down.

I patted her back. "You can open your eyes now, Charlie," I told her gently.

She sat hunched down, on the bed. "We need to know what happened, Charlie," I told her quietly.

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said it."

"That's not what I mean. Your secret, Charlie," I tried not to let my guilt color my voice.

She shook violently, and I squeezed her, tightly. "I had this boyfriend."

I stiffened. "I loved him, but he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said 'Charlie, if you don't take me back, I'll kill myself'," she was sobbing now, and I rubbed her back, up and down.

"And you know what I said? I said 'Go ahead'. And I left. How could I say that? I just….didn't believe him, you know? I should have."

She put her face on her knees and cried, harder than ever, and there was nothing I could do to comfort her.

~Supernatural~

"You know, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault."

"You know as well as I do that spirits don't see shades of gray, Dean. Charlie had a secret, someone died. That's good enough for Mary."

"I guess," Dean nodded.

"You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror."

"Why, what do you mean?" Dean was getting suspicious.

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? She moves from mirror to mirror, so who's to say she won't move to another mirror if we smash hers? So maybe we should pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it?"

"Well how do you know that's going to work?" Dean glanced at Sam.

"I don't, not for sure."

"Well, who's gonna summon her?"

"I will. She'll come after me."

I started as Sam said it.

"You know what, that's it." Dean pulled the car over abruptly. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think you caused her death somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling out her name in the night—it's gonna kill you. Now listen to me—it wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, blame the damn thing that killed Jess, you idiot! Or take a swing at me—I'm the one who dragged you away from your girlfriend in the first place!"

My expression sobered as I looked at Sam, and the ache in my chest grew. I could empathize with Sam, far, far, too much.

I hated that.

"I don't blame you," Sam said.

"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done."

"I could've warned her." Sam's voice was desolate. I wished I could help him.

"About what?" Dean was incredulous. "You didn't know what was gonna happen! And, besides, all of this isn't a secret, I know, and even Odette heard you!"

I jumped as I heard my name. This couldn't happen. I had to do something.

"No you don't." Sam looked out the window at the pouring rain.

"I don't what?" Dean was getting irritated.

"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything."

"What are you talking about?" Dean's tone was dangerously low.

"Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?"

Dean growled. "No. I don't like it. It's not going to happen. Forget it."

The bile was rising in my throat again, and my pulse was racing.

This was it. I had to come to terms with what I'd done.

I opened my mouth, and it had gone so dry all of a sudden.

My hands were slick with sweat as I wrung them. I had to say it.

"You don't have to do it. I'll summon Mary."


	21. Wait And Bleed

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Chapter 21 is up!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**It's Worthington vs. Slessor! Any bets? ;)**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE- WAIT AND BLEED

For one long minute, there was absolute silence.

Then they erupted, and I cringed against the upholstery at the barrage of noise.

"Are you _crazy?"_

"Do you have a death wish, kid?"

_Maybe I do_, my mind traitorously answered him.

"This is ridiculous!"

"You were gonna do it," I whispered to Sam.

He gaped at me. "I know how to defend myself, Odette! I'm sorry, but this isn't possible. Forget it."

I knew I wouldn't get through to Sam.

I turned to Dean, dreading my task. "That girl back there is going to die if we don't do something, Dean."

He glared at me. I had no choice now.

I played my last card.

"It's either me or Sam."

Sam swore behind me, he'd guessed what I was planning.

Dean's face tightened.

Sam was getting panicky. "Dean, if you're even thinking of letting her do this, I swear to God I-"

"Fine." Dean looked coolly at me.

Sam was livid, but Dean shushed him.

"Enough is enough, Sam."

He scowled at Dean, irate.

"There is no way I'm letting a _fourteen-year-old kid_ summon _Bloody freaking Mary_, Dean!"

"Over my dead body!" Sam yelled.

It hurt, a little, that Dean thought I was so expendable; just the same as my liking for Sam welled up inside me as he tried to stop me.

But it had to be done.

"It's not just that, Sam," I said softly, and he whipped around, turning angry eyes on me for the very first time since I'd seen him.

I blanched, but continued speaking. "I get it, about your girlfriend, Sam, I do, but it wasn't your fault. Whatever you've got, it's nowhere near as bad as mine. Mary'll bite on this one."

"I'm sorry about Jess, Sam, I really am, but it's got to be me."

His expression cooled as he stared at me.

Against all odds, I'd managed to convince them, and I was scared.

It was true. I knew what was coming, and I accepted it.

I just wished I'd been able to thank Castiel one last time.

~Supernatural~

We walked into the antique shop, while Sam distracted the guards.

I could feel Dean's gaze boring a hole into my back, and I unsuccessfully tried to ignore it.

"You know this isn't a suicide attempt, right?" He offered unexpectedly.

He continued without waiting for my answer.

"No funny business, kid, understood? You call the damn thing down, and sit outside looking pretty while we kill her. Got it?"

He paused, this time.

"No funny business, Dean. I get it." I was surprised that he would assure me.

He crossed his arms huffily.

"Sammy would skin me alive if Mary harmed a hair on your pretty little head."

He looked mutinous.

I pressed my lips together.

Sam himself returned, and together they smashed every mirror in the shop but one.

It had once been ornate, but was now rusted over.

I tried not to notice the fact that the rust looked like dried blood.

Sam patted me on the shoulder. "You're not going to die, Odette. We'll get here in time."

I wished I could believe him.

Dean nodded, seemed to be on the verge of speaking, coughed awkwardly, and hurriedly left.

I faced the mirror.

I was probably about to die, and it was no less than I deserved.

Perhaps it would be better. I supposed all that had happened wouldn't plague me anymore.

It didn't change the fact that I was terrified.

I fleetingly thought of Castiel.

It was time.

"Bloody Mary."

My heart beat faster and faster.

"Bloody Mary."

Why did my voice tremble so much?

"Bloody Mary."

The mirror darkened.

But it wasn't Mary Worthington I saw.

I saw myself, hands bloody and gore-stained, hair matted and tangled, but the worst were my eyes.

Dark, so dark they were almost black, and devoid of absolutely all feeling. They did not even seem human.

The pain was building in my own eyes now, white-hot and intense.

And then it spoke.

"You killed him! It was after you, and he got in the way! You killed him, Odette! That blood is on your hands!"

"No," I whispered, the wetness in my eyes gathering, the memories threatening to overcome me. I shook my head from side to side. "No."

"You could have prevented it, couldn't you?" The malice on my, _it's _face was shocking.

"You could have given yourself up."

I was clutching my head, the pain growing, sharp and numbing.

"He is dead because of you!" She shrieked.

"MURDERER!" Mary yelled.

"NO!" I screamed, the blood flowing in streams down my face, dripping onto the floor.

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" I did not care that I was shouting at an insane spirit.

My strength was weakening, and I sunk to the ground.

My scream brought Dean and Sam running.

Sam knelt down beside me, but I couldn't talk.

Dean smashed the mirror, and I could hear him mutter.

"Damn it, kid."

A rough, callused hand, I think it was Dean's, swiped across my cheek, but there was too much blood for him to wipe away.

Sam was doing it too, but it wasn't enough.

Then something screeched.

Mary herself had crawled out of the mirror, inching towards us.

She flicked a hand, and Sam and Dean collided against me on the ground, amidst the powdered shards of glass.

I was sorry about that. They shouldn't die as well.

I did not know whether the wetness cascading down my cheeks were blood or tears.

Perhaps it was both.

They were both proof of my guilt.

"You first," she hissed at me.

I was going to die, and I couldn't work up the energy to care.

My only regret was taking Dean and Sam with me.

"I'm sorry," I spluttered, spitting out the metallic, salty blood that had escaped into my mouth.

I did not know to whom I was apologizing, to Dean and Sam, to _him_, to everyone I couldn't protect, I couldn't tell.

Mary advanced.

~Supernatural~

Out of nowhere, a pale hand came in contact with Mary's bone-white forehead.

A hand I recognized.

"Shut your eyes!" Castiel yelled, and we obeyed.

We threw our arms over our eyes, and I winced as I did so.

There was a blinding, pulsing light, and a screech, then total silence.

I opened my eyes tentatively.

Mary was gone.

Castiel gave us an almost exasperated look, then disappeared.

~Supernatural~

I'd had to be half-carried between Dean and Sam to the car, and placed into it as unceremoniously as was possible.

The whole ride back to the hotel, Sam had spent shouting at Dean.

"If it hadn't been for Castiel, she would have been dead, Dean! We're supposed to protect people, not put them in danger!"

To Dean's credit, he hadn't said a word to refute him.

~Supernatural~

"Idiot kid," Dean said under his breath, which contrasted sharply when he dabbed at my cheek gently with a rag.

Sam had resorted to black looks directed at his brother as he did the other side of my face.

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

I could still see, but my eyes hadn't stopped bleeding.

"I think I can help with that."

Sam automatically steadied me as I nearly tumbled off the bed, and Dean cursed.

Again.

Castiel bent down, his hand an inch away from my face.

My eyes started to grow hot, and I resisted the urge to cry out in pain.

Just as suddenly, the pain disappeared, and I looked at my dry cheek in wonder.

"Thank you, Castiel," I stuttered.

"It's a common gift among angels, healing. And every angel knows how to banish a ghost."

He waved away my thanks.

"Then," I thought out my words. "I suppose thanks for bothering to help us. We would've been dead without you, Castiel. Thanks for caring…enough to show up and save us. And heal me."

I ended it lamely.

I never was very articulate around the angel.

He cocked his head, staring at me strangely. "I suppose….you're welcome."

The use of my own words was not lost on me.

Sam cleared his throat. "Thanks, Castiel. You really saved us."

"Yeah, thanks, angel." Dean looked as if he were choking on his own words.

I rose from the bed, ready to slip away into my own room, when Castiel stopped me.

"It wasn't your fault."

My eyes widened. "If you knew what I've-"

He cut me off yet again. "I don't need to. I'm an angel, Odette. I know when a soul is guilty, and when one isn't."

"Yours is clean."

I looked at him, stuffing down the faint tendril of hope that had risen.

"I wish I could believe you."

~Supernatural~

I popped open the catch, staring at his picture.

I fought back my tears.

"This is stupid. I know you're gone. Me, of all people, should know that."

"I just…..I'm scared, and I don't know what to do. I'm sorry for everything, I'm so, so sorry."

"I love you, and I miss you so much. I'm all alone, now, and I'm terrified."

"I wish you were here. I wish it never happened. I wish you could've stayed."

"Tell me what to do."

A lone butterfly flitted in through the window, coming to land with a gossamer light touch on my finger.

I froze as I saw it in greater detail.

It was a warm, caramel brown with hints of gold and amber.

The exact color of his eyes.

The butterfly flew away.

A single tear trickled down my cheek.


	22. Bloodied Silver

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Chapter 22 is up! Anyway, I'm skipping Skin and doing Hookman, 'cuz I'm really really excited to do Home! Which is right after Hookman! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! (With one notable exception.)**

**By the way, I love caramel macchiatos! I love caramel anything, really. :D**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO- BLOODIED SILVER

It had been one and a half months hunting with the Winchesters and Castiel.

Looking back to my time in Maine, I was surprised, and a little unsettled, that my life with the Winchesters and the angel was happier.

It scared me.

Dean's voice brought me back to the small outdoor café.

"Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin' cold over here, Francis."

"Bite me." Sam replied, unruffled.

I smiled, sipping my own caramel macchiato.

Dean was eying my cup.

I pushed it towards him. "Want it?"

His hand was reaching towards the paper cup when it got slapped away by Sam.

"You already had your latte, Dean! Let her drink!"

I was about to laugh, but thought better of it as I saw Dean's glower.

"Anything?" He asked, still sulky.

Sam shook his head. "I had 'em check the FBI's Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Doe's fitting Dad's description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations."

I glanced at them. Dean and Sam were looking for their father, John.

I could relate. I understood the feeling of being terrified when your family dwindled, one by one.

"Sam, I'm tellin' ya, I don't think Dad wants to be found."

Sam looked crushed.

I wanted to comfort him, but couldn't pluck up the courage.

Not in front of Dean.

"Check this out," he showed Sam an article on Sam's computer. "It's a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. Only about a hundred miles from here."

Sam read the newspaper. "The mutilated body was found near the victim's car, parked on 9 Mile Road."

"Keep reading." Dean was waiting expectantly.

"Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible."

"Could be something interesting," Dean said.

"Or it could be nothing at all." Sam countered. "One freaked out witness who didn't see anything? Doesn't mean it's the Invisible Man."

"But what if it is? Dad would check it out."

~Supernatural~

"One more time, why are we here?" Sam let out a resigned sigh.

"Victim lived here."

We walked up to a few boys fixing a Porsche Boxter.

This was the fraternity where Rich, the murdered boy, lived.

"Nice wheels," Dean looked admiringly at the Porsche.

The frat boys looked at us strangely.

"We're your fraternity brothers," he added. "From Ohio. Transfers. Looking for a place to stay."

Dean grinned and walked into the fraternity dorm room.

We were confronted with a shirtless guy in yellow shorts painting his face and body purple.

My mouth fell open.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"We're your new roommates." He smiled and walked over to the boy.

"Who's she?" He pointed at me.

"Our cousin," Sam interjected. "She's helping us choose a place."

The frat boy looked at me oddly.

He held out a brush and a tin of paint to Dean. "Do me a favor? Get my back. Big game today."

Dean indicated Sam. "He's the artist. The things he can do with a brush."

My lips twitched as I saw the mischievous glint in Dean's eye.

The boy's gaze traveled down my body. "What about your cousin here?"

Dean's grin faltered.

Sam, mortified, grabbed the brush and can as I sidled behind Dean, uncomfortable with the attention.

Normally, Dean would've pushed me away.

This time, he let me stay.

Dean sat down on a chair, picking up a magazine.

"So," he glanced at the name on it. "Murph, is it true?"

"What?"

"We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week."

"Yeah," his expression turned downcast.

"What happened?" Sam asked from his position behind Murph.

"They're saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy."

"Was he with somebody?"

Murph's eyebrows waggled. "Not just somebody. Lori Sorensen."

"Who's Lori Sorensen?"

"You missed a spot," Dean told Sam, as he appeared to move away from Murph. "Just down there on the back."

Sam let out an annoyed huff.

I repressed a chuckle as Dean's grin returned.

"Lori's a freshman. A local. She's super-hot. And get this- she's the rev's daughter."

"You wouldn't happen to know which church, would ya?"

~Supernatural~

We could hear the Reverend's sonorous voice as we entered the church.

"Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter. And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means. To us, as a church,"

At this point, we walked in, and I cringed as the door slammed shut behind us.

I flushed as the congregation turned to look at us. We hurriedly sat down, as I noticed a pretty blonde girl staring at Sam, who smiled weakly at her.

"As a community," The Reverend continued, "And as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic as life unlived is the saddest of passings."

"So please, pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children. "

Everyone bowed his or her heads in prayer.

Except Dean.

"_Lower your head," _I hissed at him.

Finally noticing everyone else, Dean ducked his head down.

Mass was soon finished, and as we exited, I saw the same blonde girl outside.

"Are you Lori?" Sam asked her.

"Yeah."

"My name's Sam. This is my brother, Dean, and my cousin, Odette."

I smiled politely at Lori.

Dean waved. "Hi."

"We just transferred here to the university."

"I saw you inside," Lori answered Sam.

"We don't wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…"

"We wanted to say how sorry we were," Dean interrupted.

Lori nodded slightly. Her father came up behind her.

"Dad, um, this is Sam and Dean and their cousin Odette. Dean and Sam are new students."

Dean shook the reverend's hand as he looked questioningly at me.

"I'm helping them settle in with their stuff and everything," I said, purposely being vague.

Sam and Dean nodded along as if this was nothing new to them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Dean smiled.

"I must say, that was an inspiring sermon."

"Thank you very much," Rev. Sorensen replied, seeming pleased. "It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord's message."

Dean laughed under his breath, and then nudged me. "Meet us at the library in a couple," he muttered, as Sam headed off with Lori.

"Listen, uh, we're new in town, actually." He led the reverend away.

~Supernatural~

"So you believe her?" Dean was looking skeptically at Sam.

"I do." Sam said.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, I think she's hot too."

Sam sighed. "No, man, there's something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car."

"Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the-"

"Hook Man legend, I know."

Dean scoffed. "That's one of the most famous urban legends ever. You don't think we're dealing with Hook Man?"

"Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began." Sam chewed his lip pensively.

"Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?"

"Well, maybe the Hook Man isn't a man at all. What if it's some kind of spirit?"

~Supernatural~

The mousy librarian handed us the arrest records we'd asked for.

"Thanks," I told her.

She walked away.

Several hours later, we finally found something.

"Hey, check this out." I told them. "In 1862, a preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, 'some of the deceased were found in their beds, sheets soaked with blood, others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh."

Dean looked at another page. "Get this, the murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook."

I pointed at the next page.

"Look where all this happened."

"9 Mile Road," Dean read.

"Same place where the frat boy was killed," I said.

"Huh." Dean was insultingly surprised. "Not bad, Beauty Queen."

I blushed. Grudgingly or not, this was the first time Dean hadn't minded my help on a case.

"Let's check it out," Sam gathered all the research and we left.

~Supernatural~

We got out on 9 Mile Road.

"Here you go." Dean threw Sam a gun.

I wondered if I would ever be this familiar with handling weapons.

"You better have your gun with you, Odette," Dean warned me.

"Yeah, yeah I do." I whispered. I was just about to draw it out to show him when we heard the noise among the trees.

"Over there, over there." Dean hissed.

Sam aimed the gun and cocked it.

A figure came out from behind the tree.

It was a cop.

"Put the gun down now! Now! Put your hands behind your head!"

"Wait, okay, okay!" Dean was alarmed.

"Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!"

We got down.

"On your bellies! Now!"

"He had the gun!" Dean yelled plaintively.

~Supernatural~

We walked out of the Sheriff's Department.

"Saved your ass!" Dean was saying. "Talked the sheriff down to a fine. Dude, I am Matlock!"

I smiled at that.

"But how?" Sam looked at him.

"I told him you were a dumbass pledge and that we were hazing you."

"What about the shotgun?"

"I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank."

"And he believed you?" Sam's tone was disbelieving.

Dean shrugged. "Well, you look like a dumbass pledge."

I couldn't stop my laugh at that.

My smile faded as several sheriffs ran out of the building and sped away in their cars.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

~Supernatural~

We snuck into Lori's sorority building, climbing into her room.

I was pushed in, and I heard Dean fall on Sam.

"Oh, sorry."

"Be quiet!"

"You be quiet!"

"_You_ be quiet!"

I was about to laugh, when I finally noticed what was in the room.

I narrowly stopped myself from screaming.

Dean and Sam heard my muffled exclamation and jumped in through the window.

"What?" Dean shook my arm when I could not answer him.

I pointed a shaking finger.

We were staring at the bloodied, clawed body of Taylor Mackenzie, Lori's roommate.


	23. Hooked To Death

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Well, here it is! Is there anyone else who updates as fast as I do?**

**It's no excuse, but I'm exhausted today, so the chapter might be a bit…..choppy, I guess.**

**Home is right after this! *****squeal*******

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! (Welcome back, Garideth!)**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE- HOOKED TO DEATH

"'Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light'? That's right out of the legend," Sam peered at the message written in blood over Taylor's lifeless body.

"Yeah, that's classic Hook Man all right," Dean tapped his nose. "Definitely a spirit."

I tried not to tremble seeing Taylor's ravaged body.

"Yeah, I've never smelled ozone this strong before."

Dean moved over to the window.

"We should get out of here. The cops'll be coming any minute."

Sam did not answer as he stared at the wall. "Hey, come here."

He pointed to the cross symbol. " Does that look familiar to you?"

~Supernatural~

"It's the same symbol. Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns."

"All right, let's find the dude's grave and put him down." Dean flexed his hands on the steering wheel.

I decided to interrupt. "'After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.'"

"Super," Dean griped.

"We know its Jacob Karns, but we don't know where he'll manifest next. Or why." Sam looked annoyed.

"I think your little friend Lori might have something to do with this."

Dean grinned. "This means partying, Sammy!"

~Supernatural~

Dean had been in a good mood ever since he'd returned with Sam from the college party they'd attended.

"Man, you've been holding out on me," he told Sam. "This college thing is awesome!"

I fought a smile.

"This wasn't really my experience," Sam replied.

Dean held up a hand. "Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A's?"

Sam nodded.

He let out a disappointed sigh. "What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?"

"Yeah, it was bugging me, right? Like, how's the Hook Man tied up with Lori? I think I came up with something."

Sam unraveled a piece of paper.

"1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage." Dean read.

"There's a pattern here," Sam said. "In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out-get this-with a sharp instrument."

"What's the connection to Lori?" Dean asked.

Sam tapped his foot impatiently. "Her father, Dean. The reverend."

"You think he's summoning the spirit?"

"Maybe. Or you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?"

Dean nodded. "The spirit latches onto the Rev's repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay."

"Without him ever knowing it," Sam spun the car keys around his finger.

"Keep an eye on Lori tonight," Dean ordered.

"What about you?"

"I'm gonna go see if I can find that unmarked grave. And you," Dean turned his eyes on me. I resisted the urge to squeak in alarm.

"Will be coming with me," he finished.

I followed him reluctantly.

~Supernatural~

"Here we go," Dean spotted a headstone engraved with a cross symbol.

He picked up his shovel and started digging, while I held the flashlight.

He had been working on the grave a while when he grunted. "That's it. Next time, I get to watch the cute girl's house."

"Hey, keep the flashlight steady, wouldja?" Dean snapped.

"Sorry," I gripped it tightly.

He broke through the wooden floor of the grave, revealing Karn's remains. I gagged at the smell.

Dean threw his shovel aside. "Helloooo, preacher," he drawled.

He pulled out his bag.

Dean poured salt and lighter fluid on Jacob's yellow-starched bones, and I paled.

He lit the match. "Buh-bye, preacher boy."

He threw the match into the coffin, watching the bones burn.

I tried not to cough at the acrid smell.

Dean's smirk told me I had failed.

~Supernatural~

Reverend Sorensen had been attacked. Sam and Lori were both at the hospital with him.

"No, it's alright, we're with him. He's our brother." The two sheriffs looked at our green eyes and brown hair.

"Hey, brother!" Dean waved at Sam.

Sam and the sheriff next to him turned around.

"Let him through," the cop said.

"Thanks," Dean smiled.

Once the sheriffs' left, Sam started talking.

"Why didn't you torch the bones?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean stared at him in amazement. "You sure it's the spirit of Jacob Karns?"

"It sure as hell looked like him. And that's not all. I don't think the spirit is latching on to the reverend."

Dean snorted. "Well, yeah, the guy wouldn't send the Hook Man after himself."

"I think its latching onto Lori," Sam furrowed his brow. "Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So she's upset about it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do wrong, you get punished."

"Right. Rich comes on too strong. Taylor tries to make her a party girl. Dad has an affair."

Dean whistled. "Remind me not to piss this girl off."

"You must have missed something," Sam insisted.

"I burned everything in that coffin, Samsquatch."

"Did you get the hook?" Sam crossed his arms.

"The hook?" I echoed, speaking for the first time.

"Well, it was the murder weapon," Sam reflected. "In a way, it was part of him."

"So like the bones, the hook is the source of his power."

"If we find the hook…."

"We stop the Hook Man," they said in unison.

~Supernatural~

I stared at the tan wall of my room. It reminded me of Castiel's trenchcoat.

The very next minute, the angel himself appeared.

This time, I managed to stay on my bed.

It didn't stop my squeak of alarm, though.

"Hey, Castiel." I smiled tiredly at him.

"Hello. The Hook Man is going to kill again."

I blinked, nonplussed. "Can you tell us where it is, please?" I looked up at him.

"We could use your help."

He moved his head to one side. "The hook has been reforged. Look in the girl's house- and the church for silver."

His expression turned disapproving. "If it were up to me, I'd teach the reverend a lesson in immorality."

His voice turned stony. "We do not like deceit."

I shivered at the barely-hidden threat in his voice.

"Go."

~Supernatural~

Dean threw the last of the silver into the fire. Sam added his own bundle to the mix.

"I took everything that even _looked_ silver," Sam informed him.

Suddenly, we heard footsteps above us.

"Move, move," Dean hissed, pushing me forward.

"Take out your gun," he told me.

I hated it, but I did as I was ordered.

We stealthily ascended the stairs, looking at the deserted church.

Lori was sitting alone in the pew, tears rolling off her nose.

Dean lowered the gun and moved back down.

"Lori?" Sam walked cautiously towards her.

"What are you doing here?" She wiped her face hastily.

"I could ask you the same question," Sam said.

She sniffed. "This is my fault. I killed Rich and Taylor. I hurt my dad."

"I _wanted_ them to be punished, but not like this."

She sobbed, banging her head against the aged wood of the pew.

"Lori…." Sam gently patted her shoulder.

The candles at the altar blew out. We could hear a noise from the back of the church.

"Come on, we gotta go," Sam pulled Lori to her feet and dragged me along.

We opened the door to the basement, but the Hook Man was waiting behind it.

Lori screamed.

I was inches away from joining her.

We fled down the aisle to the back room, but he was already there.

The Hook Man swiped at Sam, who ducked, jerking us forward. My gun clattered to the floor.

We ran in opposite directions, hoping to confuse the spirit.

It didn't work.

He finally pierced Sam's shoulder. Sam's roar of pain made me wince.

"DEAN!" I called vainly.

Lori was pulled onto the floor, and I was sent hurtling back.

The Hook Man's hands closed around Sam's throat. I struggled against the ghost's influence.

"Get DOWN!" Dean yelled.

I ran across the room, tackling Sam to the floor as Dean shot it.

The Hook Man disappeared.

I panted as Sam helped me up.

"I thought we got all the silver." Sam was careful not to move his shoulder.

My gaze fell on Lori.

I tugged Sam's uninjured arm.

He looked down at me.

"Her necklace," I pointed at Lori's neck.

It was a silver cross.

Dean ripped it off of her in a flash.

He threw Sam the rifle and rock salt.

In the hallway, something was gouging into the wall.

Lori whimpered, and I grabbed her hand.

Sam shot at the scratch, and Dean dashed down to the basement.

The quiet _snick-snick _told me Sam was reloading the gun.

The Hook Man appeared in a second, knocking the rifle out of his hands.

We were backed up against the wall.

It raised its hook, and I flinched, waiting.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw it melt, and the rest of its body vaporize, dispersing slowly in the stagnant air.

Just as fast as he'd come, the Hook Man disappeared.


	24. The House Is Haunted

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**This is it. HOME!**

**Big things, people. Big things. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Chapter name borrowed from Alice Cooper. **

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR- THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED

I writhed on the floor, screaming as the pain in my head reached its peak.

_A woman smiled, running her hands across a small, dog-eared photo of a smiling man and a blonde woman, hugging two brown-haired boys. 'The Winchesters,' she read, 'John, Mary, Dean and little Sammy.'_

The door to the hotel room banged open, and I could hear the babble of panicked voices.

"Odette? ODETTE?" I felt myself be roughly shaken.

Dean. Of course. "Damn it, Odette, TALK!" He growled, shaking me harder.

"Knock it off, Dean! Can't you see she's hurt?"

Gentler hands replaced his. "Odette?" A hand pressed into my back.

"What's wrong? What's happening, Odette? Talk to us." I hung limply in Sam's grasp.

"C…Call Ca-" I couldn't finish my sentence, shrieking, clawing at my skull as the pain intensified.

"The hell's wrong with her, Sam?"

"_There's something in the closet, Mommy." The little girl clutched her duvet. "I don't like it here."_

"Call Castiel, Dean, maybe he can tell us what's going on with her."

"The hell I will, Sam! We'll get her to the hospital, come on."

"_Monsters aren't real, sweetie. You're just not used to this place yet. Lawrence is great. We're going to be happy here."_

"Fine, then I will!" I felt myself being carried onto the bed.

"Odette. Snap out of it." Dean's voice was insistent, and I tried to listen, I really did.

"Castiel. Would you mind coming? Odette's… hurt."

A fluttering of wings. "What seems to be the problem?"

I twisted around on the bed, my head inflamed by the images, the burning, searing, images.

My hand moved. "Don't k…know…. s…. seeing things…."

"This is not normal." Cool fingers pressed into my temple, and I relaxed slightly at the contact.

"She's having a vision."

_Lawrence. Kansas. Winchester. Mary. _

_Lawrence. Kansas._

"The hell do you mean, a vision, angel? This isn't bloody Stephen King!"

"I do not understand your reference, Dean. I am doing my best to bring her out of it. She will answer your questions."

_Lawrence. Lawrence. Lawrence. _

"These things aren't possible."

"You believed_ I_ wasn't possible, Sam."

"She's almost out of it." The calming fingers left my temple.

"_Somebody help me, please!" The woman yelled, hammering on the window, fingers scratched and bloody._

I rolled off the bed, gasping, shaking as the room steadied around me.

Dean pulled me up, placing me on the bed, as I panted hard, fingers digging into my pillow.

Sam handed me a glass of water, and I sipped gratefully, regaining my bearings.

Once I was through, Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Mind telling me what that episode was for, Beauty Queen?"

Sam glared at him.

"I don't know. I just saw this house…and a kid. And a woman. She was screaming…..and I….."

I shuddered. It had been much too vivid.

"Castiel said it was a vision." Sam squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, and I leant into the contact.

"I think….she might be in trouble. We should go…."

I trailed off at Dean's incensed look. "What, so you're supposed to have the freaking Shining now?"

"Kid, you are looking more suspicious to me all the time. You have demons on your trail, you live alone, and now you're having visions."

"Who's to say they're even real?" I could see the muscles in his jaw jumping.

"Dean!" Sam patted me on the back, and stood up. "Enough! The hell is wrong with you, man? None of this is her fault!"

I stood up. "Lawrence." I whispered.

There was dead silence from both men.

"What?" Dean's voice was icy.

"You lived in Lawrence, Kansas. Your mother's name was Mary."

Dean's hands clenched into fists.

"I think she's….dead."

Sam stared at me. "How did you know that?"

I shrugged. "I saw."

Dean kicked the table hard. "Damn it, I swore I'd never go back there!"

~Supernatural~

"You gonna be all right, man?" Sam was glancing at Dean's tense face.

"Let me get back to you on that." He walked over to the house and rang the doorbell.

Sam walked with me. "I'm sorry about Dean. He's pretty sensitive about Lawrence. Mom died when he was four, right here, so….."

He lapsed into silence. "I'm sorry about your mom, Sam," I told him.

"Thanks. It's harder for Dean, really. I don't remember her."

I jumped back as the woman from my vision opened the door. "Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal-"

Sam cut Dean off. "I'm Sam Winchester, and this is Dean and Odette. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin' by, and we were wondering if we could see the old place."

"Winchester, huh? You know, I think I found some of your pictures last night. I'm Jenny."

She stood aside and let us in. We were led into the kitchen, where the girl from my vision was doing homework, and a jumpy little toddler was bouncing up and down in his playpen.

"Juice! Juice! Juice!" He squealed. Jenny hurried over and pulled out a sippy cup for him. "That's Ritchie, he's a bit of a juice junkie."

She walked over to the girl. "Sari, this is Dean, Sam and Odette. They used to live here."

"Hi." She said politely.

We waved at her.

"So you just moved in?" Dean asked.

"Yeah…. I needed a fresh start. You know, new town, new job."

"So how you likin' it so far?" Sam smiled encouragingly.

"With all due respect to your childhood home, I'm sure you had a lot of happy memories here," Dean smiled weakly. "But this place has its issues."

"I mean, flickering lights, rats scratching around, blocked sink." She paused. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to complain."

"Hey, its ok," Dean assured her.

"Ask them if they know about the thing in the closet." Sari whispered, tugging at her mother's arm.

A familiar ache pulsed through me.

Hadn't I done that more times than I could count?

"Sweetie, there's nothing in the closet," Jenny stroked her hair. "Right?" She looked back at us.

"No," Sam hastened to answer.

"I'm sorry, she had a nightmare." Jenny gave an embarrassed smile.

"But I wasn't dreaming," Sari insisted. "It came into my room. And it was on fire."

~Supernatural~

"OK. Scratching, flickering lights. Signs of a malevolent spirit." Sam pursed his lips.

"Yeah, I found out Dad saw some palm reader in town." Dean said, not really paying attention. "We should check it out."

"Fine," Sam flipped through the phonebook. "We've got El Divino," he let out a laugh. "The Mysterious Mister Fortinski, uh, Missouri Mosely,"

"Wait, wait," Dean held up a hand. "Missouri Mosely? That's a psychic?"

"Apparently, yeah," Sam nodded. "Why?"

"Look." He held out a battered, leather-bound book. "Dad wrote about it in his journal.

"I went to Missouri," he read, "And I learned the truth."

~Supernatural~

Missouri was odd.

She took one look at us, and said: "Well? You going to stand here all day or come in?"

We walked into a sunny, bright room. Missouri placed her hands on her hips.

"Well, lemme look at ya."

"Sam and Dean Winchester." The short black woman smiled widely. "Well, you boys grew up handsome." She pointed a finger at Dean.

"Boy, you used to be one goofy-looking kid." Dean glared at her, and Sam smirked.

She turned her eyes onto me. "Well, well, well, you must be Odette."

I smiled uncertainly at her.

"Aren't you just beautiful?"

She grabbed Sam's hand.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry about your girlfriend," Missouri patted his hand. He gaped in shock.

The statement spiked a memory, and I jerked.

Missouri slowly turned towards me, eyes dilating in horror. "Child….."

She stretched out a hand. "My God…" she whispered.

I backed away from her now. If she knew what I thought she did….

I turned for the door, as Dean and Sam exchanged a confused look.

"Child, let me help you," Missouri stepped after me.

"It wasn't your fault," she told me, and I laughed bitterly.

As if that could ever be true.

My hand closed around the doorknob. "If you're reading my thoughts, please stop."

I closed my eyes for a minute, praying for composure.

"I think Dean and Sam could use your help. Please leave me out of it."

Dean was staring at me warily again, and Sam eyed me worriedly.

"_You_ need my help more than they do," Missouri said. "You can't go on like this, sweetheart."

"Please." I pleaded. "I can't."

I couldn't revisit my past.

It would destroy what little peace I had left.

~Supernatural~

"This place is a magnet for paranormal activity," Missouri frowned, tracing the contours of the wall.

"Why?" Dean fidgeted, clearly unhappy with being in the place where his mother had died.

"Real evil walked this house when your mother died, Dean. That kind of presence leaves wounds. And sometimes, they get infected."

Jenny had been sent away with Sari and Ritchie.

Missouri had detected a poltergeist in the house.

"It won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead," I remembered her saying.

"It's not the thing that killed your mother, but it's nasty," she told them.

"I just can't figure out what the other one wants. Whatever it is, we need to kill it. And it won't be easy."

~Supernatural~

"You said to call, if I had a problem." I spoke to the empty room.

"If I needed help."

I sat on the floor, bringing my knees up to my chest. "Please."

"Help me," I whispered.

I closed my eyes.

"What do you require?"

He was here.

"Thanks for coming, Castiel."

He inclined his head.

"You have questions for me."

"Why am I having visions, Castiel? Why are they coming true? Why are demons after me?"

He stared impassively at me.

"I do not have your answers."

"Who does?" I curled in tighter onto the floor.

"You do, Odette."

"What do you mean?"

He sank down to the floor with me.

"Face who you are, Odette. That is your answer."


	25. The Wind Cries Mary

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Home- Part 2. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Heavy angst involved, people! You have been warned. **

**This is pretty short.**

**Chapter name borrowed from Jimi Hendrix. :D**

**He is awesome. **

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE-THE WIND CRIES MARY

"Here. These gris-gris bags should keep 'em out if we put it in the walls," Missouri was saying, deftly tying up the small pouches.

"Let's get to work," she said. "I'll take the attic."

"Kitchen," Dean grunted.

"Odette and I will do the living room."

I smiled gratefully at Sam.

The other two left, and I gave one of the hammers to Sam.

We started work, chipping at the wall steadily. I got tired easily, and the handle of the hammer started to slip in my sweat-slicked hands.

Something rustled on the ground, and as I whipped my head around, it stopped.

I turned back to the wall, when I was catapulted to the other side of the room, crashing into the table.

"Odette!" Sam yelled in alarm, but his cry was cut short as a cord snaked around his throat, and he fell to the floor, vainly trying to pull it off.

"No!" I struggled to my feet and ran across the room, tugging at the cord as Sam choked.

"DEAN!" I shrieked.

Overhead, I heard Missouri scream.

I ducked as a lamp sailed over my head. I heard lumbering footfalls, and was roughly pushed out of the way as Dean grabbed Sam.

"Sam!"

The cord refused to budge, and Dean changed direction. He kicked a hole in the wall, and realizing what he was trying to do, I threw him the last gris-gris bag.

He jammed it in, and a blinding white light streaked through the room.

I flung a hand over my eyes and waited.

The light receded. The poltergeist disappeared.

The cord slipped off Sam's neck, and Dean pulled him into a fierce hug.

I stood up shakily.

Missouri made her way downstairs.

"The house is clean," she said.

~Supernatural~

"What are we still doin' here?" Dean griped, trying to get comfortable in the driver's seat.

"I've got a bad feeling this isn't over yet," Sam said, staring fixedly at his old house.

"Besides, your last vision hasn't come true, has it, Odette?"

"No, I don't think so," I told Sam, resting my head against the window.

"Well, I could be sleeping in a bed right now," Dean persisted, sinking lower into his seat.

I didn't answer him, pressing my nose up against the window.

And then I saw it.

"Dean, Dean!" I shook him.

"_What?_" he barked irritably.

"Look!"

Jenny was screaming, hammering against the window.

Exactly like my vision.

We were out the door in a flash.

"Get the kids!" Dean yelled, "I've got Jenny."

We ran in opposite directions inside the house.

"Take Ritchie!" Sam directed, and I sprinted to his playpen.

I picked up the wailing toddler, joining Sam with Sari as we raced to the door.

I shoved Ritchie at Sari as something dragged Sam and I back inside the house, throwing us against the wall.

The door banged shut with an ominous finality.

The fiery figure walked on forward, and I bit my lip to keep from whimpering.

There was a loud crash, and Dean barreled into the room, aiming the gun.

"No!" Don't shoot!" Sam shouted beside me.

"I know who it is now," he whispered.

The figure coalesced into a woman in a white nightdress, loose blonde curls falling down her back.

"Mom?" Dean stuttered, and in that instant, he seemed so vulnerable. The gun clattered to the floor.

So childlike.

"Dean." The woman smiled and walked forward.

Tears pooled in his eyes and I stared in shock, and something like envy, as I remembered what I had lost.

She turned. "Sam."

Sam's eyes were glistening as she looked at him sadly.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" His voice cracked.

She did not answer, as she glanced at me oddly, as if she did not know quite what to make of me.

Was that…pity? Pity in her eyes for me?

She turned her eyes to the ceiling, voice steely.

"You get out of my house. And let go of my son."

Mary Winchester shot up in flames, and as they reached the ceiling, the force holding us disappeared.

She vanished.

~Supernatural~

I sat huddled on my bed.

I wanted my mother.

I wanted someone to be there, just this once, to tell me everything was going to be all right.

That I wasn't alone.

I wanted her to whisper my name, stroke my hair and tell me she would always be there.

I needed her here. Needed to see her, to smell her perfume, to know that there was someone, somewhere, who still cared.

Anyone.

I needed her to be there, to tell me this was all some horrible, miserable nightmare, and that she would still be home for me, waiting, as she always did. Always had.

But there was no home to go back to.

No home, no one.

No Mom.

I held my head in my hands and I closed my eyes.

I didn't what to see the joke my life had become.

Cruel, twisted, sick joke that it was.

And this time, no one would be laughing.

A breeze whipped through my room, flicking my hair across my face.

"Why do you wish for death?" His presence was unmistakable.

Cool. Quiet. Inhuman.

I couldn't hold in the tears any longer.

"I have nothing to live for, Castiel."


	26. Flash Delirium

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Asylum is up next!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Chapter name borrowed from MGMT.**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX- FLASH DELIRIUM

"Caleb hasn't heard from him either," Sam said, banging his phone down in frustration.

"Sam, how many times have I told you he does not _want_ to be found?" Dean threw his hands up in the air.

"But-"

"Wait," Dean forestalled Sam. His phone buzzed and he picked it up.

"Coordinates," Dean smirked. "I love the guy, but I swear he writes like friggin' Yoda."

"Well, we're off to Illinois, aren't we?"

~Supernatural~

"So, Danny, where did Walter go to catch the kids in the asylum?"

Sam's voice drifted out into the parking lot, where I uncomfortably stood next to an annoyed Dean.

"South wing, I guess. I just don't understand how he could've shot her. Walter loved his wife."

The rumbling baritone voice shook slightly, and I sighed.

Six months with the Winchesters had shown me that mine wasn't the only happy ending that had never taken place.

Sam pulled me out of my thoughts, as he joined Dean. "I think we should take a look in Dad's journal."

We drove back to the hotel.

I could tell his father's disappearance was taking its toll on Sam. It was there in the tense, angry set to his jaw.

Or was it revenge that he wanted? For his Jess?

I had an odd sense that he was going to snap, sooner rather than later, and it wouldn't bode well for the rest of us.

"Hey, look, Sammy. Bunch of kids disappeared in 1972. Dad marked this."

"Huh. I guess its time we checked it out."

~Supernatural~

"EMF'S going crazy in here," Dean commented, as we walked in the damp, dimly lit asylum.

The place made me uneasy. It seemed malevolent…..angry.

Perhaps Dean noticed. "Getting some vibes here, Zelda Rubenstein?"

I twitched. "I don't know. It just feels wrong."

Sam smiled slightly, and the color started to creep into my cheeks.

Dean scoffed. "Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel."

I flushed.

We walked in silence for a while, finding nothing of consequence, until Dean decided to break the quiet.

"Hey Sam, who do you think is a hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt or Beauty Queen over here?"

My ears turned red.

"Dean!" Sam sounded scandalized, but he couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Well, what _do_ you think? C'mon Sammy, no need to be shy."

The passageway was filled with Sam's gusty sigh.

~Supernatural~

"James Ellicott."

"What?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam.

"James Ellicott's father was Sanford Ellicott, Chief of Staff at the asylum. I bet he knows a lot about it."

"Which is why we're outside a shrink's office?" Dean stared dubiously at the building.

"Yeah. Either you or I have to go and ask."

"Super." Dean bit out the words.

"I could go," I suggested hesitantly.

They stared at me and I shrugged. "He'd be pretty suspicious if you guys asked him. I'm only a kid, he won't mind, I think."

"That's not a half-bad idea," Dean said slowly. "Yeah, you can go," he said, throwing me the money.

I caught it and walked inside.

~Supernatural~

I sat on the couch, flicking through a magazine in the waiting room.

"Odette Slessor?"

I stood up at once. "That's me."

"Come on in." I followed Ellicott into his office.

We moved into the inner room.

"Thanks again for seeing me last minute," I told him.

I looked around the room. "Dr…..Ellicott. Ellicott, that name. Wasn't there a…..a Dr. Sanford Ellicott? Yeah, he was a chief psychiatrist somewhere."

Ellicott glanced at me. "My father was chief of staff at the old Roosevelt Asylum. How did you know that?"

I blinked. "Ah. Well, I'm sorta…a local history buff. Hey, wasn't there an incident, or something? In the hospital, I guess. In the south wing?"

His face took on a calculating cast. "We're here on your dollar, Odette. We're here to talk about you."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, OK. Yeah, yeah, sure."

"So. How are things?" His eyes were heavy on me.

"Ah, things are good, Doctor." I tried for a convincing smile.

"Good." Ellicott's voice was doubtful. "Whatcha been doing?"

"Ahh. Same old. I'm just road tripping with my cousins."

"Is it fun?"

I paused. "Oh, loads. Um. You know…we…ahh….. we…meet a lot of…. interesting people. Do a lot of….. interesting stuff…ahh, you know? What was it that happened in the south wing? I forget."

He gave me a bored look. "Look, if you're a history buff, you know all about the Roosevelt riot."

I squirmed. "Right, the riot. No, I know. I'm just curious."

"Odette." Ellicott folded his hands. "Let's cut the bull, shall we? You're avoiding the subject."

I stared. "What subject?"

"You. Now I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you about the Roosevelt riot, if you tell me something honest about yourself."

Foreboding swept over me. Ellicott didn't know what he was asking for.

"What do you want to know?"

"About your family."

I froze. "What about them?"

"Why aren't you with them?"

"I….I'm an emancipated teen."

He stared at me coolly. "I see."

"Can you tell me about your mother?"

My throat constricted, and my fingers ripped into the leather of my chair.

"She's not around anymore."

I tried to shrug, and failed miserably. "Can we go on to the riots now?"

"Not quite yet," his tone was sleek. "And your dad?"

This time, I couldn't hold back my reaction. I flinched at the mention of him.

Ellicott's eyes narrowed. I'd just given myself away.

"What was your relationship with him like?"

My eyes glistened.

So much for a fair deal.

~Supernatural~

"Kid! You were in there forever!" Dean stopped as soon as he saw my expression.

"Kid?" His eyes narrowed.

Sam pushed ahead of Dean, staring at me worriedly.

"You look like hell, Odette. What happened?"

I coughed to cover up my choked voice. "Ellicott was…. unwilling to tell me about the asylum. So we made a deal. I was supposed to answer whatever he asked me….and in return, he'd give me the information."

My eyes flashed up to his room. He was at the window, fixedly looking at me. I trembled.

They noticed the direction of my gaze.

Sam and Dean closed ranks around me, and Dean looked at the doctor in a decidedly unfriendly way.

"The hell did you tell him, kid? He looks as if his eyes are gonna drop out of his head, and you're about as white as a sheet."

Dean's tone was gruff, yet gentler than before.

"Just stuff," I said.

"Right." He was unconvinced.

I was surprised, and touched, when Sam squeezed my arm comfortingly, glaring at the building.

I held on for a little longer, appreciating the support.

Dean rolled his eyes and walked ahead.

Sam and I followed.

"So, what did he, say, Odette?" Sam asked me in the Impala, carefully choosing his words.

"So, um yeah. The hospital." I cleared the last of my conversation with the psychiatrist from my mind. "They housed the really hard cases in the south wing. The psychotics, the criminally insane."

"Sounds cozy," Dean remarked from the driver's seat. I couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah. And one night, in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other."

"So the patients took over the asylum?" Sam looked at me expectantly.

"Apparently."

"Any deaths?" Dean turned back to look at me.

"Some staff, some patients. I guess it was pretty gory, some of the bodies were never even recovered, including Dr. Ellicott's."

"Whaddaya mean, never recovered?" Dean reached the hotel, swerving into the parking lot.

"Cops scoured every inch of the place but I guess the patients must've…stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden."

I trailed off at the end.

"That's grim," Sam commented.

"Yeah," I agreed. "So they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down."

"So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies." Dean nodded to himself.

"And a bunch of angry spirits," Sam added.

"Good times," Dean said sarcastically. "Let's check out the hospital tonight."

~Supernatural~

"Getting readings?" Sam asked Dean, walking into the derelict asylum.

"Yeah, big time," Dean waved the EMF meter for emphasis.

"This place is orbing like crazy," Sam raised his video camera.

"Probably multiple spirits out and about." Dean glanced around edgily.

"You getting anything, Rubenstein?" He added.

Sam sighed behind me.

I couldn't stop my laugh. "No, not yet."

"Glad somebody's having fun," he muttered.

"If these uncovered bodies are causing the haunting….." Sam didn't need to finish his sentence.

"We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful, though. This a pissed off, psycho killer spirit."

"You especially, kid." Dean pointed at me.

We kept walking.

Sam and Dean wandered into different rooms.

As I poked my head around in one, I couldn't hold in my shriek.

An old woman with white hair staggered forward, one eye hanging out, bloody and scratched towards me.

"Get down!" Dean yelled, Sam pushing me out of the way.

I threw myself onto the floor, as I heard Dean shoot the woman.

She disintegrated.

"What did I just say about being careful, kid?" Dean eyed me testily.

Sam pulled me up.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly.

That's when we heard the noise in the other room.


	27. Hysteria

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Chapter 27 is up!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :D**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN- HYSTERIA

We cautiously moved into the next room, as Sam flicked on his flashlight.

I could clearly see a blonde head peeking over the rusty metal bed in the corner.

Bracing himself, Dean flipped over the cot, to be confronted by a terrified, gasping teenager.

"Easy, easy," Dean held up his hands. "We're not going to hurt you. I'm Dean, this is Sam and Odette. What's your name?"

"Katherine," the blonde girl whispered. "Kat."

"What are you doing here?" Sam exclaimed, surprised.

She blinked at him. "Um, my boyfriend, Gavin. He thought it would be cool to check this place out." She rolled her eyes.

"I don't know where he is now," she added, visibly upset.

"Okay, Kat. I want you to go home and we'll find your boyfriend for you, all right?"

"What? No!" Kat shook her head vigorously.

"I'm not leaving until I find him!"

Dean and Sam judged her expression, and gave up. "Fine, you come with me," Dean told Kat.

"We'd better find your boyfriend," he sighed.

"Come on, Odette," Sam said, pulling me along.

~Supernatural~

"Gavin!" Sam yelled, and I followed suit.

"Gavin, you there?"

"Gavin!"

I stumbled against something warm and fleshy, and bit back my scream.

"Sam!"

"What?" He shone his flashlight in my direction.

He looked down.

A dark-haired boy was unconscious on the floor.

We crouched down at once.

I shook him gently, and nearly got punched as a result.

"Whoa, whoa there," Sam said as the boy scrambled to his feet.

"Are you Gavin?"

"Yeah, yeah I am," Gavin panted. "Who are _you_?"

"We're investigating," Sam supplied unhelpfully. "Kat's looking for you,"

Gavin instantly set off after us.

"So how'd you fall?" I asked him.

"I don't really know," he answered. "I think I was running."

"From what?" Sam's voice sharpened.

"There was…..there was this girl. Her face. It was all messed up."

"Ok, listen, did this girl try and hurt you?"

Sam was focused on Gavin.

"What? No…she uh," Gavin's cheeks turned red.

"She what?" Sam demanded.

"She…kissed me." Gavin looked down at his shoes.

Sam floundered for a second. "Uh…um, but she didn't hurt you, physically?"

Gavin glared at him. "Dude! She kissed me. I'm scarred for life!"

Sam hid his laughter. "Trust me, it could've been worse. Now, do you remember anything else?"

"She uh…..actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear."

"What? Sam and I said at the same time.

Gavin stared at us, clearly fed up. "I don't know! I ran like hell!"

~Supernatural~

Then we heard Kat scream.

Gavin overtook even Sam in his haste to get to his girlfriend.

We ran down the hall to see Dean struggling with a metal door, smashing it with a pipe.

"What's going on?" Sam pushed at the door.

"She's inside with one of them!" Dean banged at the door, the ringing of metal on metal resounding in my ears.

"Help me!" Kat shrieked.

"Kat, it's not going to hurt you. Listen to me," Sam deliberately kept his voice calm. "You've got to face it, you've got to calm down."

Dean turned to Sam, astonished. "She's gotta what?"

"I have to what!" Kat shouted.

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate. You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it."

"You face it!" Kat was fast turning hysterical.

"No!" I said. "It's the only way to get out of there."

"No!" Kat's voice was shaking, badly.

"Look at it, come on," I urged. "You can do it."

There was dead silence, and I could feel the tension mounting in the air.

"Kat?" Gavin was getting frantic.

"Man, I hope you're right about this," Dean watched the door warily.

"Yeah, me too," Sam exhaled heavily.

The lock clicked and the door slowly opened.

Kat stood in the doorway.

"Oh, Kat," Gavin hugged her tightly.

The old ache in my chest reappeared.

How long had it been since I'd been comforted in that way?

Sam went inside the room to check for the ghost.

He came back soon, shaking his head at Dean.

"One thirty-seven." Kat was pale and shivering.

"Sorry?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"It whispered in my ear. One thirty-seven."

Dean and Sam spoke at the same time.

"Room number."

"Huh." Dean looked surprised. "Get them outta here," he told Sam.

"I'll go find room one-thirty-seven."

I turned on my heel, unsure whom to follow.

"Sam's gonna have his hands full with them," Dean jerked his head at their retreating backs.

"Mind coming with me?"

"Uh, no," I replied.

I don't think I fooled him.

~Supernatural~

Dean moved down a hallway, and shone his flashlight on room one thirty-seven. We'd found it.

He pushed against the door, using his weight to push aside the broken furniture blocking it.

The room was a mess, filing cabinets pushed over, papers strewing the floor, walls stained and damp.

I stepped in hesitantly.

Dean flicked through some folders laying in a cabinet, and kept looking.

He found a loose panel and pried it off. Behind it was a satchel full of papers.

"This is why I get paid the big bucks," he snickered.

It was hard not to smile at that.

I looked carefully at it, and then pulled on Dean's sleeve timidly.

"What?"

"It's a journal. Dr. Ellicott's journal."

Dean flipped through the pages, raising his eyebrow at the hand drawn copies of medical instruments.

"Well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a _very_ dull boy."

A noise made us look up quickly.

~Supernatural~

We came around the corner to see Kat, just as she pulled the trigger of her gun.

Dean pushed me into the corner just in time, narrowly escaping the bullet himself.

He crouched down by the wall, making sure I did the same.

"Damn it, damn it, don't shoot! It's me!"

Kat's hand flew to her mouth. "Sorry!"

"Son of a…" He looked at the marks on the wall.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked.

"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded.

Gavin stared at him. "He went to the basement. You called him."

"I didn't call anybody."

~Supernatural~

We searched the basement.

"Sammy? Sam, you down here?"

"Sam!" I called.

As we turned, we saw Sam standing right in front of us.

Dean jumped back, automatically raising his shotgun.

"Man, answer me when I'm calling you! You alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Sam's reply was terse.

A flicker of unease went through me.

There was something…..different about him. Something hostile.

"You know it wasn't me who called you, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Sam nodded. "I think something lured me down here."

"I think I know who." Dean looked pleased. "Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?"

"No. How do you know it was him?"

I shot a look at Sam.

There was something…..off about his voice.

I shook off my disquiet.

This was Sam. He'd saved my life, I had to trust him.

"'Coz I found his logbook," Dean said. "Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff. Makes lobotomies look like a coupla aspirin."

"But it was the patients who rioted," Sam objected.

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger they would be cured of it. Instead, it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. I guess his spirit's doing the same with all the victims…. Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em."

"How?" Sam was uncharacteristically abrupt. "The police never found his body."

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients, so. If I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on it myself."

"I don't know, it sounds kinda…"

"Crazy?" Dean grinned.

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Exactly."

~Supernatural~

Dean opened another door, looked inside and gestured for us to follow.

I grew more nervous as I saw Sam give Dean a calculating look.

We entered the room.

"I told you. I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room."

"Well, that's why they call it hidden." Dean snidely told him. "You hear that?"

"What?"

Dean looked around, crouching and holding his hand out. "There's a door here."

Sam pointed his gun at Dean. A trickle of blood ran from his nose. "Step back from the door."

I moved forward to reason with him, but he caught me by the arm, pressing until it hurt.

I struggled futilely, wincing as the pressure increased.

Dean rose to his feet, eyes going from the gun to Sam's face. "Put the gun down, Sam, and let Odette go."

Dean's voice was strangely level.

"Is that an order?" Sam's tone was tight.

"Nah, it's more of a friendly request," Dean's eyes swiveled from me to the gun.

Sam raised his gun to Dean's chest.

"Coz I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders," he added conversationally.

"I knew it," Dean said. "Ellicott did something to you."

"Kid, stop moving," he ordered as I wriggled in Sam's iron grip.

I did as he asked.

"For once in your life just shut your mouth," Sam snapped.

"Sam, please-" I opened my mouth, and then I heard a gunshot.

I was blasted through the wall, gasping as my stomach flared in pain.

I dimly heard Dean curse as I tried to get to my feet unsuccessfully.

"What are you going to do, Sam?" I heard him say. "Gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me."

"No. But it will hurt like hell," was Sam's calm reply.

I agreed with that, flinching as my stomach throbbed.

There was the sound of another gunshot.

I crawled forward, back into the room, still not able to stand.

Dean was lying on the floor, gasping, just like I was, for breath.

Sam stood over him.

"Sam, we gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal."

"I _am_ normal," Sam's eyes were cold. "I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Coz you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you _that_ desperate for his approval?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam," Dean said through gritted teeth.

I had my breath back, now.

I raised myself an inch off the ground.

Sam didn't notice. "That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind, of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "So what're you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?"

I raised myself higher.

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago!"

It was at this time I launched myself off the ground and collided against Sam.

There was a brief second when Sam froze, surprised.

And then he punched me. In my stomach.

The breath whooshed out of me as I thudded to the floor.

"You know, I understand Dr. Ellicott worked his thing on you, but hitting a girl? _Seriously?_ I taught you better than that, Sammy."

Sam stared blankly at him.

"You know what? Here," he held out his Smith and Wesson. "Come on, take it. Real bullets are gonna do much more good than salt rounds."

Sam hesitated, and I struggled to get off the ground.

But I couldn't. Not this time.

Dean caught my eye, and inexplicably, winked. My mouth popped open.

_Stay down_, he mouthed.

Even if I'd wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to stand.

Sam pointed the gun at Dean's face.

"You hate me that much?" Dean blanched. "You think you can kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Do it!"

My eyes widened.

Sam pulled the trigger.

The chamber was empty. He squeezed it again.

Twice. Thrice.

Dean was up in an instant, punching Sam in the jaw. "Man, I'm not about to give you a loaded pistol!"

He punched him again; hard enough that Sam lost consciousness.

"Sorry, Sammy." He patted his shoulder.

Dean moved forward, helping me up, careful not to aggravate my injuries.

"You alright, kid?"

I looked at him, still unable to talk.

He mistook my silence. "Right, right, stupid question. Rock salt and a punch to the stomach. Bad combo."

He pulled me along.

Dean began looking around the room, tossing aside ragged curtains with his pistol.

We saw a tuft of something, maybe hair, poking out of a dilapidated cupboard.

He opened the door to find a mummified corpse.

I reeled, gagging at the stench.

"Oh, that's just gross," Dean twisted up his face in disgust.

He briskly salted the body. "Soak it up, Doc."

He dropped the container, and I handed him the tin of kerosene.

He squirted it over the corpse.

Out of nowhere, a gurney flew across the room, pinning us against the wall.

The ghost of Dr. Ellicott appeared, fixing his hands on either side of my face.

I fought against his hold as his hands lit up.

"Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you all better."

I thrashed against the wall, as the white-hot pain spiked through my head, kicking against the spirit.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean rummaging in his bag, finally throwing his lighter at the mummified body.

Dr. Ellicott stood stock-still.

Dean pulled me away from him.

The ghost turned black, and I leant against Dean as the doctor crumbled to dust.

~Supernatural~

Sam flexed his jaw painfully.

"You're not going to try and kill me, are ya?" Dean stared at him.

"No." Sam fingered his jaw carefully.

"Good. Because that would be awkward."

~Supernatural~

"Thanks, guys," Kat smiled at us.

"Yeah, thanks," Gavin added hastily.

"No more haunted asylums, OK?" Dean eyed them meaningfully.

We watched as Gavin and Kat walked to their car.

"Hey, Dean, Odette?"

Dean and I turned to Sam.

"I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there."

"You remember all that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam passed a hand over his face. "It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it."

"You too, Odette," Sam looked at me reproachfully. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hit you. Or shoot you."

"S'ok, Sam," I smiled at him. "Wasn't really you."

"You didn't mean it, huh?" Dean re-entered our conversation.

"No, of course not!" Sam's voice climbed in pitch. "Do we need to talk about this?"

Dean moved to get into the Impala. "Nah. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.

~Supernatural~

The persistent ringing of Dean's phone brought me out to the room he shared with Sam.

"Dean."

He did not move.

"Sam?" I called.

Both brothers were fast asleep.

I glanced at them. They both needed their sleep.

I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

It nearly fell from my hand.

"John Winchester?"


	28. Glorified Murder

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Chapter 28 is up!**

**So, Scarecrow it is! Don't mind the tiny chick-flick thing I added in there, because Sam was **_**really **_**insensitive with the whole "how the hell would you know how I feel' thing, so I think I'm entitled.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :D**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT- GLORIFIED MURDER

The rough voice grew sharper.

"Yeah, this is John Winchester. Who the hell are you?"

I glanced frantically around. "Um, I'm Odette. Dean and Sam sorta….. rescued me, I guess. I'm with them at present."

_Brilliant_, my mind hissed.

"Give the phone to Dean." John's voice was eerily emotionless.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," I shook Dean, who groaned and tried to punch my arm aside.'

"One more thing," John added. "What's after to you so badly that the boys had to bail you out?"

"Demons," I whispered.

There was dead silence at the other end of the line.

~Supernatural~

"Alright, so, the names Dad gave us, they're all couples?"

"Three different couples. All went missing," Dean answered.

"And they're all from different towns? Different states?" Sam cocked an eyebrow.

"That's right. You got Washington, New York, Colorado. Each couple took a road-trip cross-country. None of them reached their destination, and none of them were ever heard from again."

"Well, it's a big country, Dean. They could've disappeared anywhere."

Sam's voice was unhappy, and I had a bad feeling about this.

Apparently, Dean didn't notice. "Yeah, could've. But each one's route took 'em to the same part of Indiana. Always on the second week of April. One year after another after another."

"This is the second week of April," Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Yep," Dean nodded.

"So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?" Sam's frustration was thinly concealed.

I twitched uneasily.

"Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obits Dad had to go through? The man's a master."

Sam pulled the car over, lips pursed.

"What are you doing?" Dean demanded.

"We're not going to Indiana."

"We're not?" Dean's eyebrow climbed upwards.

"No. We're going to California. Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code."

"Sam." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad's closing in, we've gotta be there. We've gotta help."

"Dad doesn't want our help," Dean forced out.

"I don't care." Sam's voice was absolute.

"He's given us an order," Dean's tone was getting angrier.

"I don't care," Sam said firmly. "We don't always have to do what he says."

He tried to reason with him. "Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it's important."

"Alright, I understand, believe me, I understand." Sam turned to pleading. "But I'm talking one week here, man, to get answers. To get revenge."

"Alright, look, I know how you feel."

Dean was taken aback by the ferocity of Sam's answer.

"Do you? How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?"

Dean's eyes narrowed to slits.

Sam had finally gone too far.

"Yeah, I know damn well how you feel, Sam! You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to hunt every damn thing that any normal person would've run away from? Don't you dare tell me I don't know how you feel! You lost your girlfriend, Sam. I lost my life."

Sam sucked in a breath. I stared at Dean in shock, he'd never said so much in one go, and I wished I could comfort him.

"Dean, I-"

"Just shut up, Sam!" Dean got out of the car, and I followed, watching as Sam unloaded his backpack.

"You're a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anybody thinks."

"That's what you really think?"

"Yes, it is." Dean glared at him, and I shifted from foot to foot, trying to think of a way to defuse the situation.

"Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California." Sam slung his duffle over his shoulder, turning on his heel.

I moved forward hesitantly.

Sam guessed what I was thinking. "Stay with Dean, Odette. It's not safe for you with me."

Dean watched him. "I will leave your ass here, you hear me?"

Sam looked back. "That's what I want you to do."

They stared at each other a minute.

Stalemate.

Dean pulled me back into the Impala.

"Goodbye, Sam."

We drove off into the night.

Glancing at Dean's taut features, I sighed.

Stay with Dean.

Of course.

~Supernatural~

"So, lemme guess," Dean gestured at the sign on the door. "Scotty, right?"

The old man followed his gaze. "Yep."

"Hi, my name's John Bonham."

I smiled at that.

Scotty raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?"

My smile grew wider.

Dean paused, stumped. "Wow. Good. Classic rock fan."

"So, what can I do for you, John?" Scotty looked expectantly at us.

Dean pulled out the flyers for Holly and Vince Parker.

"I was wondering if you'd uh.. seen these people by any chance."

He gave it a cursory look. "Nope. Who are they?"

"Friends of mine," Dean waved the pictures around. "Went missing about a year ago. Already checked in Scottsburg and Salem, so…."

"Sorry," Scotty's tone implied anything but. "We don't get many strangers around here."

Dean nodded.

"Scotty, you've got a smile that lights up a room, you know that?"

Both Scotty and I eyed Dean oddly.

He chuckled. "Never mind. See you around."

~Supernatural~

I glanced outside the car, bored.

I missed Sam.

"Why does your fondness for them bother you?"

I stared at the passenger seat. "Hello, Castiel."

He waited for my answer.

"I'm worried, Castiel. I fit into this life too easily."

He regarded me impassively.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Castiel nodded. "If it is in my power to answer."

"Why do you only show yourself to me?"

He pinned me with his eyes. "Because you trust me more than they do."

~Supernatural~

We were driving back from the general store, when Dean's bag started vibrating next to me.

"What the hell?"

Dean stopped the car, pulling out the EMF meter.

It beeped frantically.

~Supernatural~

I shivered as I stared at the scarecrow. "Dean," I called, my voice shakier than usual.

It felt wrong.

"What?" Dean said irritably, then stopped as he saw the scarecrow.

He surveyed it for a long moment.

"Dude, you fugly." He said simply.

I started laughing.

Dean glared at me, but for the first time, there was no heat in his gaze.

~Supernatural~

We stopped at the gas station.

"You're back," the girl from the store greeted us. Emily.

"Never left," Dean said.

"Still looking for your friends?" Emily sounded sympathetic.

We nodded.

Dean saw the red car in the corner. "That your aunt and uncle's?"

"No, a customer. Car trouble."

Emily smiled at him.

"Not a couple, were they?"

She looked at him strangely. "Yeah, yeah they were. How did you know that?"

~Supernatural~

Dean cursed.

I stayed as close to him as I dared.

The woods were dark.

Nighttime.

"Where're the two?" Dean asked.

I swallowed noisily. "Up ahead."

Something creaked in the clearing.

Dean pushed me behind him, and walked forward stealthily.

The terrified couple confronted us, when we heard a stick snap.

The scarecrow climbed off its cross.


	29. Rain On The Scarecrow

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Scarecrow, part 2, I guess.**

**Chapter name borrowed from Mellencamp. Wow, that's a first. ;)**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE- RAIN ON THE SCARECROW

Dean pushed the frightened couple away from him. "Get back to your car!"

"Bu-" The man objected.

"Go!" Dean fired off a shot at the scarecrow.

It stumbled, but kept walking. "You too," Dean pointed with his gun.

"No. I'm staying."

I pulled out my own gun, and shot it, to prove my point.

Dean stared for a second, then grabbed me and ran.

The scarecrow followed.

~Supernatural~

"The scarecrow climbed off its cross?" Sam's voice was tinny and faint, but it was good to hear from him.

"Yeah, I'm tellin' ya. Burkitsville, Indiana. Fun Town."

"It didn't kill the couple, did it?"

"No."

"So something must be animating it. A spirit."

"S'more than that, according to Odette." Dean glanced at me.

"What makes her say that?"

"It's a god. Pagan god anyway. I mean, the annual cycle of its killings? Victims are always a man and a woman, like some sort of fertility rite? You shoulda seen the locals. Fattening them up like Christmas turkeys."

"The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims."

"Yeah, I'm thinking ritual sacrifice to appease the god. What's that?"

Dean looked at me again. "Yeah, yeah, she's fine. Took a shot at the thing. Not too bad.

I blushed.

I could hear Sam's startled laugh. " No, really? So, a god possesses the scarecrow…"

"And the scarecrow takes the sacrifice. For another year, the crops won't wilt and disease won't spread."

"Do you know which god you're dealing with?"

"No, not yet."

"Well, if you figure it what it is, you can figure out how to kill it."

"I know, I'm on my way to a local community college. Got an appointment with the professor there, since, you know, I don't have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research for me."

My lips curved upward.

Sam chuckled. "If you're hinting you want my help, just ask."

His tone grew more serious. "Dean, I'm sorry about what I said."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too, Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life."

I turned around to stare at Dean.

"Are you serious?" Sam was shocked.

"You've always known what you want." Dean's voice dropped all pretense of jocularity.

"And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I- anyway….I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy."

Dean's voice was thick, and I ached for it. I ached for him and me both.

Me, because I'd lost that bond already, him, because he was on the verge of losing it.

"I don't even know what to say."

"Say you'll take care of yourself," Dean said firmly.

"I will."

"Call me when you find Dad."

Sam's voice was somehow smaller, now. Forlorn.

"OK. Bye, Dean."

Dean cut the line.

I looked at him sadly. I knew what this meant.

Goodbye.

~Supernatural~

"It's not everyday I get a research question on Pagan ideology," the professor said, staring at us curiously.

"Yeah, well, call it a hobby."

"But you said you were interested in local lore?"

"Mmhmm."

"I'm afraid Indiana isn't really known for its Pagan worship."

"Well, what if it was imported? You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?"

"Well, yeah." Was it my imagination, or did he look a bit shifty?

"Like that town near here," Dean continued. "Burkitsville. Where are their ancestors from?"

"Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia."

"What could you tell me about those Pagan gods?"

"Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses."

"I'm actually looking for one. Might live in an orchard."

The professor crossed the room and brought down a heavy, dusty book.

"Woods god, hm? Well, let's see," he leafed through the pages.

I caught hold of Dean's sleeve when I saw it.

He looked where I pointed.

"Wait, wait, wait. What's that one?"

"Oh, that's not a woods god, per se."

Dean read it out. "The V-Vanir?" The professor nodded.

"The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female." He pointed to the picture.

"Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?"

"I suppose."

Dean continued reading. "This particular Vanir's energy sprung from a sacred tree?"

"Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic." The professor's tone was guarded.

"So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it'd kill the god?"

The man laughed. "Son, these are just legends we're discussing."

"Oh, of course," Dean shook the professor's hand. "Yeah, you're right. Listen, thank you very much."

"Glad I could help," he watched us leave with hooded eyes.

As we opened the door, we came face-to-face with the sheriff who'd driven us out of town, gun cocked.

Everything went black.

~Supernatural~

I awoke to my head pounding, stuffed inside a cellar unceremoniously in the dark.

Dean was awake, beside me.

"Kid, you up?"

"Yeah." I tried not to let my voice quaver.

"Listen, we're gonna get out of this, all right? We find the tree, we can kill the scarecrow."

I nodded. My voice was too weak to be heard, anyway.

The cellar door opened with a bang.

The four elders we'd seen earlier stood outside the doorway.

"It's time."

~Supernatural~

"I hope your apple pie is freakin' worth it!" Dean snarled, struggling against his bonds.

I winced as Harley tightened the rope around my wrist.

"Try and understand. The good of the many outweighs the good of the one."

I glanced at Dean desperately, as they went away.

"So, what's the plan?"

"I'm workin' on it."

~Supernatural~

"You don't have a plan, do you?" I was frantic.

"I'm workin' on it! Can you see?"

"What?"

"Is he moving yet?"

"I can't see!" A shadow flitted near the trees.

"Something's coming," I whispered, as my pulse raced.

Dean wriggled against the tree, trying to untie himself.

It stepped out from behind the tree.

"Sam?" We said in unison, amazed.

Dean's face stretched into a grin. "Oh! Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on."

Sam began untying us both.

"How'd you get here?" I asked him.

He looked away shiftily. "I, uh—I stole a car."

I blinked at him, scandalized.

Dean laughed proudly. "Ha! That's my boy! And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute."

"What scarecrow?"

Dean got up at once.

The cross was empty.

~Supernatural~

We ran through the orchard, and I impatiently whipped my hair out of my eyes.

"Alright, now, this sacred tree you're talking about-"

"It's the source of its power," Dean finished quickly.

"So let's find it and burn it," Sam urged.

"Nah, in the morning. Let's just shag ass before Leather Face catches up."

The three of us reached a clearing.

The elders were waiting for us.

We tried to find a way out, but every place was blocked.

"Please. Let us go." I pressed my lips together so they would not tremble.

Sam gently kept a hand on my shoulder, and Dean shuffled in front of me.

"It'll be over quickly, I promise," Harley looked pityingly at me.

"Please."

"You have to let him take you. You have to-"

Harley stopped with a gurgle; the scarecrow's sickle protruding from his stomach.

I hid my face in Sam's chest as Emily's aunt and uncle were dragged away.

~Supernatural~

"You burned the tree." I could sense him behind me.

"Hey, Castiel. Yes, I did."

I turned to face him.

"Why do you help us?" I asked him.

"I am ordered to help you."

He disappeared as Sam and Dean approached.

"So, can I drop you off somewhere?" Dean stared at Sam, waiting.

"No, I think you're stuck with me," Sam said casually.

I smiled, happy for their sake.

"What made you change your mind?" Dean arched an eyebrow.

"I didn't." Sam returned. "I still wanna find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass." Dean nodded, and I suppressed my chuckle.

"But Jess and Mom- they're both gone. Dad is God knows where. You and me. We're all that's left. So, if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together."

The familiar throb in my chest pulsated, aching waves of loss over me.

This used to be what I had. What I lost.

Dean paused. "Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder, and he hit it away at once.

They laughed together, and I smiled through the film of tears that had covered my eyes.

If I couldn't have my family, at least someone could.

There was hope, somewhere.

Just not for me.

I turned away from Dean and Sam as a single tear rolled down my cheek.


	30. Once Before I Go

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

***drumroll* Faith! It's going to be a **_**complete**_** AU. No case, no creepy blind healer, etc, etc. **

**But Dean's still dying. Oh, I bawled like a baby when I watched this episode.**

**Just realized this the thirtieth chapter I've written for The Black Swan. Oh, how this story has grown! *gets misty-eyed***

**Chapter name borrowed from Peter Allen. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**AngelicScream- Yes, I always try my best to update as soon as possible. But it's getting kind of difficult, with school and all….**

**Garideth- Depends on your viewpoint, really. :D**

**ccgnme- Yeah, there are times when I wake up in the night, feeling like a murderer because I just thought about Odette and how much I've put her through, and am **_**going**_** to put her through, but then I realize she's just a character, and I'm not really hurting anybody. Then it happens all over again the next day. **

CHAPTER THIRTY- ONCE BEFORE I GO

"What do you got those amped up to?" Sam asked Dean, easing his long frame out of the car.

"A hundred thousand volts," Dean tossed him a taser.

"Damn." Sam looked with appreciation at his weapon.

"Yeah," Dean grinned cockily. "I want this rawhead extra frickin' crispy. And remember, you only get one shot with these things. So make it count."

He looked askance at me. "I'd have given you one, kid, but you'd probably just electrocute yourself."

He snorted contemptuously.

I tried not to let that get to me, and immediately felt better when Sam glared at Dean.

A niggling thought of Castiel wormed its way into my brain.

It would be nice to have him with us on hunts.

But, as I glanced nervously at the other two, I knew Dean would never allow it.

We moved down the stairs to the basement, and I gripped my flashlight tightly in one hand.

Hearing a noise, Sam and Dean headed towards a cupboard, making sure I was safely behind them.

"On three," Dean whispered. "One. Two. Three." He wrenched open the door.

A young boy and girl were crouched inside with covered ears, staring at us with dark, frightened eyes.

"Is it still here?" I spoke in a hushed tone.

The children nodded.

"OK. Grab your sister's hand, come on, we gotta get you out of here," Dean hauled them out, gently pushing the siblings towards the staircase.

Sam started propelling them upstairs, when a hand grabbed his leg, knocking him back down.

The girl screamed, her brother caught hold of her hand, dragging her up the stairs.

"Sam!" Dean yelled in alarm.

He shot the taser but missed.

"Get 'em outta here!" He shouted to me.

I tossed him Sam's taser, pulling up the younger Winchester, and together, we moved the children away from the basement.

I ran down the stairs as soon as they were safe, and I stopped in my tracks when I saw Dean.

He was spread-eagled on the floor.

Dean wasn't moving.

I was on my knees next to him at once, raising his head as much as I could.

"Sam!" I shrieked, panic distorting my voice.

I shook him gently. "C'mon, Dean, get up. Who's going to keep scolding me about proper hunting techniques if you don't?"

I shook him harder, frightened.

"SAM!" I screamed.

He thudded down the stairs, freezing when he saw Dean.

Sam ran over and half-lifted him up, holding his face.

"Dean, hey." He said softly. "Get up, Dean, _please_."

Dean didn't.

~Supernatural~

I held on to Sam's hand, as much for my own comfort as his.

"Sir, I'm so sorry to ask," the receptionist looked at us sympathetically. "There doesn't seem to be any insurance on file."

"Right. Uh, OK." Sam was dazed, as if he didn't quite know what was happening.

He removed a card from his wallet, handing it to the waiting receptionist.

She gave it a cursory look. "Okay, Mr. Burkovitz."

I gently nudged Sam as I saw the two cops waiting for us.

"Look, we can finish this up later," the cop said as we walked over.

"No, no, it's okay." Sam attempted to fake a normal expression. "We were just taking a shortcut through the neighborhood. And, um, the windows were rolled down, we heard some screaming when we drove past the house, and we stopped. Ran in."

"And you found the kids in the basement?"

"Yeah," I decided to give Sam a reprieve.

"Well, thank God you did."

"Excuse me," Sam told the cops as we noticed the doctor waiting patiently on the side.

"Sure. Thanks for your help."

"Hey, Doc," Sam greeted him. "Is he…"

"He's resting," he answered.

Sam was working his mouth furiously, no words coming out.

"And?" I doubled my fists, waiting.

We were both waiting.

The doctor sighed. "The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I'm afraid. His heart…. it's damaged."

Sam looked as if he'd been kicked in the stomach, and I closed my eyes.

I knew what was coming.

"How damaged?" Sam managed to choke out, his voice like a lost little boy's.

"We've done all we can," he regarded us sadly. "We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. I'd give him a couple weeks at most, maybe a month."

"No, no." Sam set his jaw. "There's, there's….. gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment."

My eyes flipped open.

This could not be happening.

Wasn't once enough?

"No," I whispered, echoing Sam.

The doctor looked at us pityingly.

"We can't work miracles. I really am sorry."

~Supernatural~

Dean was watching TV.

His skin, normally lightly tanned, was stark and pale. His eyes were hollowed in dark.

We entered.

Dean kept his eyes trained on the screen.

"Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible."

I'd never heard Dean sound so weak.

Sam sighed. "I talked to your doctor."

"That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down."

"Dean."

He looked up, switching the TV off.

"Yeah, all right, well, looks like you're gonna leave town without me."

We stared at him.

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna leave you here."

Dean was serious. "Hey, you better take care of that car. Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass."

"I don't think that's funny."

I didn't, either.

"Oh, come on, it's a little funny," Dean pushed.

There was a long silence.

Sam was fighting tears.

Dean pushed himself up. "Look, what can I say? It's a dangerous gig, and I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story."

My eyes stung.

This couldn't happen.

This was Dean, dying.

Strong, dependable, sturdy, Dean.

He couldn't die.

He'd saved our lives, both Sam and mine, he couldn't just go.

How long had it been?

Seven months, maybe eight?

It felt like longer.

Dean had never liked me, probably never would, but I felt differently.

He was strong, and brave, and loyal.

Fiercely protective of Sam.

It was with the swell of wetness in my eyes that I realized I was just as fond of Dean as I was of Sam.

How could I not be?

Wisecracking, sarcastic, reckless Dean, who'd put his life on the line for a person he'd known for barely a day with nothing but a smirk and a 'don't mention it'.

Dean met my eyes then.

"Aw, look Sam, the waterworks have already started. I'm touched, kid, but save it for the funeral."

He grinned at me, but it was a travesty of his usual expression.

I wanted the one that belonged there on his face.

The cocksure, aggressive grin that annoyed anybody and everybody within a ten-mile radius.

I couldn't help the tears that spilled over.

"Don't talk like that," Sam snapped. "We still have options."

"What options?" Dean snorted. "Yeah, burial or cremation? I know it's not easy."

His eyes softened. "I'm gonna die, Sam. And you can't stop it."

Sam's head snapped up.

"Watch me."

~Supernatural~

The voicemail rang out, loud and clear.

"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235. He can help."

Sam shook the bed, he was trembling so hard, fighting his tears, and I squeezed his shoulder, wishing I could find a better way to help him.

"Hey, Dad. It's Sam. Uh…you probably won't even get this, but, uh, it's Dean." He stuttered. "He's sick, and uh…the doctors say there's nothing they can do. Um…. but, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, 'cuz I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. Alright…just wanted you to know."

He tossed his phone aside, and I rubbed his back, wiping away my own tears.

This was going to destroy him.

Sam was nothing without Dean.

For the hundredth time, I wondered where John was.

How could any father leave his children?

A darker memory swirled up to the front of my mind…. didn't I already know that answer? I shook it aside.

Things were bad enough already.

There was a sharp rap on the door.

We looked up quickly, Sam's eyes wet and hopeless.

He opened the door.

Dean leant against the jamb.

He looked terrible.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked, surprised and happy, yet still confused.

"I checked myself out," Dean shrugged painfully, and I hurried to push him onto the bed, for once ignoring his glower.

"What, are you crazy?"

"Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot."

Sam huffed a laugh and shut the door.

"I don't need to be mollycoddled, Beauty Queen," Dean growled when I refused to let him up from the bed.

I stared at him.

Sam resumed scouring the Internet for a cure for Dean.

Dean kept his eyes fixed on the wall, his face uncharacteristically weary.

I left a cup of coffee for Sam.

He smiled at me, but there was no light in his eyes.

I withdrew to my own room.

No one of us would be sleeping tonight.

~Supernatural~

"Dean is dying," I looked up at the ceiling. "I'm asking you to help me, Castiel, please. He doesn't deserve to die. He can't."

I wrung my hands.

The room remained empty.

"I know he doesn't like you, but please. Sam will be devastated, it will kill him."

I sat on the bed, head in my hands.

"Please, Castiel."


	31. Faith Won't Fail

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**So, I want someone's opinion here! Should I do Route 666 or not?**

**Yes, yes, I know this is Katy Perry's song! I don't like her, but the name fit beautifully.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**KK161990- Yes, I cried a lot in Faith! Yup, I thought it would be a nice touch to add Cas to it. School really **_**is**_** a pain, isn't it? **

**AngelicScream- Thank you! I'm pleased you like it. Yes, I know, it really is bad. **

**Garideth- It wasn't supposed to be less devastating. You know Gamble wrote this one too? I'm not surprised. -_- **

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE- FAITH WON'T FAIL

The lights in my room flickered.

"Why do you seek my assistance?" Castiel stressed the word 'my' slightly.

I turned to face him. "You're the only one who'll help me."

Castiel's eyes shifted to the door. "I should not intervene. Everyone has to die, Odette. Dean's time has come."

I closed the gap between us. "Please, Castiel. It'll kill Sam as well if Dean dies."

"It is not my place to stop it. His place in Heaven is granted, I assure you."

"But it's not fair!" I was on the verge of yelling, but I restrained myself. It would not do to disturb Dean and Sam yet.

He remained unruffled. "Death is not fair. I think you know that more than most, Odette."

Of course I did.

"That's why I want you to stop it. Can you save him?"

His face was closed off, expressionless. "Yes."

"Will you save him?"

"I should not."

I stared at him. "You told me you show yourself to me because I trusted you more than they do."

He cocked his head to one side, finally showing an emotion.

Curiosity.

"Then please. Please save him. You're the only one who can."

~Supernatural~

Dean's head snapped up when Castiel appeared in the room. "Well, well, well, angel. Heard the news?"

He was unperturbed. "Yes. Odette asked me to help you."

He swung around to stare at me. "You _what?_"

I nodded weakly.

"Oh, geez." Dean sat up in bed with a grimace. "Sam? Sam!"

Sam groaned, head on the keyboard, still half-asleep.

"What?" He muttered drowsily.

"Angel intervention, dude. Better wake up."

That got to him.

He got up with a start, rubbing at his neck absentmindedly.

"Castiel?" He blinked at him, bemused. "What are you doing here?"

"I can save your brother, Sam. "

His eyes widened. "You can?"

"Yes."

The tear tracks still hadn't dried on his face. "Please. I'll do anything, just please. Do it."

"Hey, wait just a minute here!" Dean scowled.

"How am I so sure this is gonna work? I don't want some weird angel mojo messing with my body!"

All three of us stared at him.

"No freaking way." Dean crossed his arms.

Sam finally had enough. He punched the wall in frustration.

"That's it, Dean! You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It's crap, and I can see right through it. I don't care what I have to do, I'll hogtie you to the goddamn bed if you don't let Castiel save you!"

~Supernatural~

"This will probably be unpleasant," Castiel warned Dean.

"Brilliant," Dean rolled his eyes. The angel did not reply, and pressed his finger to Dean's forehead.

He grunted, face furrowing in pain, clutching the bed sheets as tightly as he could.

Sam moved forward, but Castiel put out his free arm. "Step back!"

We waited, as Dean jerked against the bed violently.

Castiel withdrew his hand, and he slumped onto the mattress, unconscious.

"He'll wake up in a few hours. Dean should be fine."

He turned to go, but I stopped him.

"Thanks, Castiel." Sam rubbed his hair awkwardly. "Thanks for helping us. We owe you one."

He nodded, and I spoke up. "Yeah, thank you so much, Castiel. I know you didn't want to do this."

Sam glanced at me sharply.

"I don't know what I…" my gaze moved to Sam. "_We_ would have done without you. I don't know how to thank you. If you ever need any help, just call."

He surveyed me for a second.

"You're welcome."

~Supernatural~

"Oh, it feels good to be back!" Dean grinned, downing his bottle of beer in one go and reaching for his burger.

Sam sighed, but I caught the smile Dean didn't see.

"I'm gonna sleep like a log," he pulled off the blanket on his bed. "And then, hamburgers!

Sam laughed. "More? You're such a pig."

Dean smirked, and I was pleased to see his usual, cocky expression.

"Well, this pig is going to get nice and fat by the time the day's over."

"You should sleep, Sam," I told him. "You didn't get any rest last night."

Sam's face sobered slightly. "You didn't, either."

I waved away his words.

I felt Dean's eyes on me.

"Hey, kid?" He said unexpectedly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Sam and I both blinked at him.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, you know, for getting Castiel to help me and everything. That was nice of you."

Sam snorted behind me.

I smiled. "You're welcome, Dean, but I think Castiel deserves to be thanked more than I do."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "I guess I'll have to when I see him next."

I was pretty sure we would see him again.

~Supernatural~

"You're tired."

"Yes, Castiel, I am."

There was a short minute of silence.

"Why did you call?"

"I had to ask you something."

"Ask me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"More of a request, really."

"Which is?"

"I was thinking, maybe you'd like to come with us on hunts?"

He stared at me, uncomprehending. "I already help you on those."

I flushed. "That's not what I meant."

"What do you mean?"

"A part of our team, Castiel. You've helped us whenever you needed it, and we've been pretty ungrateful. Sam won't mind, and Dean will come around, eventually."

_I think._

"Do you think that could be arranged?"

He gave me a long, searching look.

"Yes. I think it might."_  
><em> 


	32. Enhance My Nightmare

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**I have decided not to write Route 666. I hate Cassie, and I wasn't looking forward to it anyway. And every writer knows that when you don't enjoy putting up a chapter, it's going to turn out pretty bad.**

**Slight angst involved. And a tiny little clue or two about Odette. Are you smart enough to pick it up?**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**ccgnme- Thank you! **

**Garideth- One has to do Sam justice! Boyish Sammy was just amazing! **

**Chapter name borrowed from Sonic Syndicate. Hmm…. Sonic Syndicate….. quite catchy, isn't it?**

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO- ENHANCE MY NIGHTMARE

I curled up on the armchair, watching the Winchesters sleep.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly.

My eyes narrowed slightly as I watched Sam toss fretfully on his bed.

Nightmares.

I contemplated waking him up, but decided against it.

They both needed their rest.

I just wished I could get mine.

My efforts to let him sleep were wasted, as Sam started up from his bed, wide awake and clearly unsettled.

He sat for a moment, and then flipped on the lights, blinking at me confusedly.

"Why weren't you asleep?" he regarded me, eyes warm and concerned.

I couldn't help but smile.

"Same reason you're up, I guess," I shrugged.

"I doubt it." He laughed sourly, glancing at my PJ'S. "Get dressed. We're leaving."

I stared at him. "What for?"

"I'll tell you later."

He shook a peacefully sleeping Dean persistently.

"Dean. Dean."

The moment he stirred, Sam rose and gathered his things.

Dean knuckled his eyes. "What are you doing, man? It's the middle of the night."

He raised himself on his elbows.

"We have to go." Sam shouldered his knapsack.

Dean was immediately alert. "What's happening?"

Sam paced the floor. "We have to go. Right now."

~Supernatural~

I rested my head against the upholstery of the Impala, listening to Sam on the phone.

"McReady. Detective McReady. Badge number 158. I've got a signal 480 in progress; I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate, Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven. Yeah, OK, just hurry."

Dean slowed the car slightly. "Sammy, relax. I'm sure it's just a nightmare."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"I mean it," Dean insisted. "Y'know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare."

I smiled into the leather upholstery.

"This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see. 'Sides, kid's dead on her feet. Not to mention I could've done with a few more hours myself."

"It is not a dream." Dean nearly crashed the car as Castiel appeared.

I smiled, genuinely pleased to see him.

"Stop poofing everywhere, goddamn it, Castiel!" Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"Hey, Castiel," Sam and I greeted him politely.

"Hello."

Dean coughed, glancing at the angel in the backseat.

"Uh, yeah. About saving me back there. Thanks, man"

"You're welcome." Castiel fixed his blue eyes on Dean.

He turned to stare at me. "It seems you are prone to insomnia."

I could literally feel Dean's smirk on me.

"No, Castiel, nothing like that."

_Guilt ruins everything, Castiel_.

I could've sworn he knew what I was thinking.

Sam's phone rang.

"Yes, I'm here."

He listened, glared at Dean, and picked up a pen. "Jim Miller. Saginaw. Michigan. You have a street address? Got it. Thanks."

He hung up. "Checks out. How far are we?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "From Saginaw? Coupla hours."

Sam clenched his hands.

"Drive faster."

~Supernatural~

The Impala cruised to a stop. The emergency vehicles completely surrounded Jim Miller's house. Someone was being zipped into a body bag.

We were too late.

Castiel surveyed the scene dispassionately.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

Sam was upset, I could tell.

We approached the watching crowd.

"What happened?" Dean asked a pale, nervous woman.

Sam came up and stood on the woman's other side.

"Did you know them?"

I chose to hang back, weary.

Castiel remained half-hidden in the shadows, silent and watchful.

"Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustines. He always seems…" She turned paler.

"Seemed so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."

Most people never did.

Dean stared straight ahead. "Guess not."

"How did…ahh. How are they saying it happened?"

"I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running."

"Do you know about what time they found him?"

"Oh, it just happened about an hour or two ago. His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."

I could.

This was a familiar scene.

A blonde woman stood on the front step of the house, leaning against a middle-aged man, crying unrestrainedly. My heart twisted, and I averted my eyes.

Castiel zeroed in to the distraught young boy with curly hair, eyes dull and hooded.

The only difference was before; I hadn't been an outsider commiserating for someone else, well meaning, and yet clueless.

Castiel's gaze shifted from the boy to me.

Sam watched for a second, grimacing, and turned to walk away.

Dean noticed, and followed him to the Impala.

We leant against the bonnet.

It was a heavy, despondent silence.

"Sam, we got here as fast as we could," Dean said quietly.

"Not fast enough," Sam returned bitterly. It doesn't make any sense, man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?"

"I dunno." Dean gave a non-committal grunt.

"Sam," I didn't know whether this would be welcome, but I went for it, nonetheless.

Castiel's eyes flashed to my face.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam. Getting guilty over something you couldn't control isn't going to do you any good."

Dean eyed me oddly.

"It's probably not my place, but trust me. Your life is hard enough already, this'll only make it worse."

I looked directly ahead at the gloomy house. Misery hung over it like a foul cloud of miasma.

"Take it from someone who knows."

~Supernatural~

Sam sighed, glancing at his slicked-back, unusually neat hair.

"This has gotta be a whole new low for us."

Dean smirked at him.

I straightened Sam's jacket a tad and fought a smile.

"I am opposed to the idea of you dressing as priests. They try and spread God's message. You," a pointed look, "are not."

My lips twitched.

Castiel's tone was slightly offended.

"Tough luck, pretty boy. Just stay with the kid."

The door clicked shut.

I curled up onto the nearest bed, conscious of Castiel's cool, impersonal presence in the room.

"Odette."

My eyes fluttered open.

"Yeah?"

"I read thoughts."

"_What?"_

I was off the bed in an instant.

Panic flew through me, instinctive and strong, almost instantly chased by despair.

The ringing in my ears didn't stop.

"Then you know." I sat back down on the bed.

Waiting.

Waiting for his condemnation.

Murderer. Monster. Demon.

His answer surprised me.

"No, I do not."

I raised my head, silently wishing for a reprieve.

"I did not wish to intrude more than I already have."

My heartbeat slowed, and I relaxed slightly.

"Let it go, Odette. It wasn't your fault."

Castiel's face was grave.

"How would you know?" I blinked away my tears.

I'd cried enough for a lifetime.

"I know when a person is guilty. Your perception of matters does not change that."

Perhaps. But even he could not understand.

"You don't know how to _feel_, Castiel. Maybe then you'd understand."

I received no response.

~Supernatural~

Dean mechanically cleaned his weapons, while Sam sunk onto the hotel bed.

"What do you guys have?" I asked tentatively.

"A whole lotta nothing," Dean grumped.

"Nothing bad has ever happened in the Miller house since it was built." Sam seconded his statement.

"You are looking in the wrong place," Castiel offered.

Dean took off one of his boots and stared at it.

For a second, I thought he might throw it at Castiel.

"Gee, thanks, Castiel. Mind not being such a Yoda?"

Castiel tilted his head to one side, eyes wide and curious.

"What is a 'Yoda'?"

Dean hurled his boot at the wall.

~Supernatural~

"Sam? Sam!" I shook him as he clawed at his head desperately.

"Dean!"

The bathroom door flung open, and Dean stepped out in an instant.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean demanded.

Sam sunk to the floor. "Ahh. My head."

His eyes unfocused and both of us crouched down next to him.

"Sam?" If it were anyone else, I'd say Dean's tone was gentle. "Hey." He grabbed his arms.

"Hey! What's going on? Talk to me."

Sam vaulted off the floor with a gasp, still clutching his head.

He looked at us, pupils dark and dilated.

"It's happening again. Something's going to kill Roger Miller."


	33. The Nightmare Factory

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Nightmare, part two, everyone!**

**Since I'm a generous author, I dropped in another clue! Or two clues, depending on how you look at it.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**KK161990- Cas is going to be in a lot more chapters, now! Thank you! I'm very pleased you think so!**

**Garideth- Oh most definitely, it was a great episode! They **_**do**_** seem to be getting closer, yeah?**

**AngelicScream- Thank you! I'm glad you like it. **

**ccgnme- Yup, that's classic Sammy for you! Ahhh, theories, I love this part of writing a story….**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! It's always great to hear from new readers!**

**Chapter name borrowed from Annihilator… such a predictable name, but whatever. **

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE- THE NIGHTMARE FACTORY

Dean drove the Impala well over the speed limit, glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eyes.

Sam held his head with one hand, speaking slowly into his phone. "Roger Miller. Ah, no, no, just the address, please. OK, thanks."

He looked at Dean. "450 West Grove, Apartment 1120."

"You OK?" Dean slowed the car slightly.

"Yeah."

Both Dean and I knew Sam was lying.

"If you're gonna hurl I'll pull the car over, you know, 'cuz the upholstery…"

He trailed off, and I couldn't help but smile, even in this grim situation.

"I'm fine," Sam snapped.

He wasn't.

"All right," Dean said, unconvinced.

"Just drive," Sam leant his head against the window.

He gave Dean a fleeting look and sighed heavily.

"Dean, I'm scared, man. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these, visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense. And painful."

Dean shot him a worried look. "Come on, man, you'll be all right. It'll be fine."

I wished I could help him.

"What is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?"

Hadn't I asked myself the same question? Over and over again?

I'd never found my answer.

Would Sam?

"I don't know, Sam," Dean pressed the bridge of his nose. "But we'll figure it out. We've faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing."

"No." Sam's voice was flat. "It's never been us. It's never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out."

Dean stared straight ahead for a long moment. "This does not freak me out."

Sam stared at him, then turned away.

"Odette?" I looked up, surprised, as Sam looked back at me.

"Yeah?"

"Do they scare you? The visions?"

I turned my head to the side. "Of course it does, Sam. I'm terrified. Every night I wake up thinking that maybe my nightmare was real, and somebody could have died because I thought it was 'just a dream'. "

"I'm terrified," I repeated quietly.

Sam inhaled sharply, eyes warm and sympathetic.

Castiel, who hadn't said a word in all this, opened his mouth. "I would have told you if it were real."

I glanced at him, caught off guard.

"Thanks."

~Supernatural~

The car pulled up as the middle-aged man I remembered from the other night approached his apartment with a bag of groceries.

Sam spoke out the window. "Hey, Roger."

"What are you guys, missionaries?" Roger scowled. "Leave me alone!"

"Please!" Sam pleaded.

But Roger was gone.

Dean gunned the engine, jumping the curb as he hurriedly parked.

We got out and ran towards the building.

Castiel did not follow us.

"Hey! Roger. We're trying to help!" Sam shouted futilely, running up to the entrance just as Roger closed the door behind him.

"I don't want your help." Roger walked away.

Sam vainly called after him. "We're not priests, you gotta listen to us!"

"Roger, you're in danger!" Dean punched the wall in frustration.

He looked around. "Come on. Come on, come on."

We raced around the corner to a back entrance. It was securely locked. Dean quickly surveyed the area, then kicked it open.

They jumped up to the first level of the fire escape, hoisting me along. We ran up the stairs, just one floor below Roger's house, when we heard a window slide down with a wet, squelching noise.

Sam and I froze.

Dean sprinted past us, grabbing the railing.

I was stuck in my position, wanting to turn away, but my body would not cooperate.

I could not close my eyes and eradicate the image of Roger's head, lying in his flowerbed, his blood as red as the roses that bloomed beside him.

Crimson splattered the kitchen window.

Dean handed out two handkerchiefs. "Start wiping down your fingerprints, we don't want the cops to know we were here."

"Come on!" Dean grasped my elbow and shook my arm. "You can freak later, kid, we gotta _move!_" He shook my arm again.

I numbly did as I was told, as Roger Miller's eyes stared blankly up at me.

~Supernatural~

"I'm telling you, there was nothing in there," Dean insisted. "The kid and I checked everything. No signs in there, just like the Miller's house."

"I saw something, in the vision. Like a dark shape. Something was…. something was stalking Roger."

"Whatever it was, are you sure it's not connected to their house?"

"It is connected to their family," Dean cursed loudly as Castiel reappeared.

"So what do you think, Castiel? A vengeful spirit?"

He stared at Sam. "Spirits are not the only ones who suffer, Samuel."

We blinked at him, as Sam muttered petulantly, "Don't call me Samuel."

"Well, yeah," Dean chose to break the awkward silence. "There's a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years."

"Banshees," Sam nodded.

"Angiak?" I offered hesitantly.

Three pairs of eyes stared at me.

"Basically like a curse," Dean put on his shoes. "So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse worthy."

"And now the something is out for revenge," Sam's brow furrowed. "And the men in the family are dying."

"Hey, do you think Max is in danger?" Sam added.

"He will be," Castiel's eyes flashed.

"Let's figure it out before he is," Dean answered shortly.

"Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people," Sam laughed bitterly.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Both our families are cursed."

Dean huffed indignantly. "Our family's not cursed! We just…had our dark spots."

Sam stared at him pointedly. "Our dark spots are…..pretty dark."

Dean glowered at him. "You're…. dark."

~Supernatural~

Max let us in readily, since Dean and Sam were in their priest outfits.

Castiel had flatly refused to dress as a priest, choosing to stay away.

He looked curiously at me. "Who are you?"

"She's our sister, Odette," Dean said quickly, before I could say anything myself.

"My mom's resting, she's pretty wrecked," Max said.

"Of course," Dean tried to smile encouragingly.

"All these people kept coming with like, casseroles? I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know, 'cuz nothing says 'I'm sorry' like a tuna casserole."

I smiled sadly at Max. I knew what he meant.

He returned it.

Max gestured to the lounge, and we all took seats.

There was a moment's silence, then Sam sighed.

"How are you holding up?" He softly asked him.

"OK." Max's face did not change.

"Your dad and your uncle were close," Sam noted.

"Yeah, I guess," Max nodded. "I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little."

"But not lately much?" Sam's eyes were sharp on his face.

"No, it's not that. It's just…we used to be neighbors when I was a kid, and we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time."

"Right." Sam knitted his eyebrows together. "So how was it in that house when you were a kid?"

Max visibly blanched. "It was fine. Why?"

"All good memories?" Dean pushed. "Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?"

Max was clearly flustered.

He shook his head. "What do ya….. why do you ask?"

"Just a question," Dean shrugged casually.

"No, there was nothing," Max said. "We were totally normal. Happy."

"Good. That's good," Dean smiled easily, and I knew he was planning something.

"Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off."

"Right," Sam looked at Dean.

"Thanks," I told Max.

He watched us leave from his porch.

~Supernatural~

We walked down the drive to stand beside the Impala.

"No one's family is totally normal and happy," Dean snorted. "See when he was talking about his old house?"

"He sounded scared," Sam flicked the hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, Max isn't telling us everything," Dean glanced at his house. "I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers."

~Supernatural~

We stood on the footpath, talking to a man in his front yard.

"Have you lived in this neighborhood very long?" Sam asked him.

"Yeah, almost twenty years now," The man nodded amiably. "It's nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy?"

"No, no, actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street, I believe." Sam looked expectantly at him.

"Yeah, the Millers," Dean said casually. "They had a little boy called Max."

"Right." Sam seconded.

"I remember," the man's mouth pulled down. "The brother had a place next door. So uh, what's this about, is that poor kid okay?"

We stared at him.

"What do you mean?" Sam demanded.

"Well, in my life I've never seen a child treated like that. I mean I'd hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street," he shook his head sadly. "He was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of."

My eyes widened in horror.

Poor, poor Max.

"This was going on regularly?" Sam searched the man's face.

"Practically every day," he answered.

"In fact, that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, didn't lift a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good."

Bile rose in my throat.

"Now you said stepmother," Dean kept his tone level.

"I think his real mother died," the man said thoughtfully. "Some sorta….. accident. Car accident, I think."

Sam held his hand to his head, grimacing.

"Are you ok there?" The man eyed him concernedly.

"Uh, yeah," Sam winced.

Dean held an arm out to Sam, nodding at me to cover his other side.

"Thank you for your time," he said distractedly.

I was there in a trice.

We turned to go, both of us supporting Sam.

"God." He moaned, and we gripped him tighter.

His eyes rolled back in his head.

~Supernatural~

"Max is doing it," Sam massaged his temples. "Everything I've been seeing."

"You sure about this?" Dean looked at him skeptically.

"Yeah, I saw him."

"How's he pulling it off?" Dean wondered.

"I don't know, telekinesis?" Sam shrugged.

"What, so he's psychic, a spoon bender?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"I didn't even realize it," Sam ignored Dean.

"This whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his dad died, outside the apartment when his uncle died. All this time, I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is, I don't get why, man. I guess because we're so alike?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean scoffed. "The dude's nothing like you."

"Well." Sam pursed his lips. "We both have psychic abilities, we both…"

"Both what?" Dean demanded. "Sam, Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third."

"With what he went through, Dean, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I'm sorry, but it doesn't sound insane."

I agreed with Sam.

"Yeah, but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family!" Dean exclaimed.

"Dean," I said softly.

"What?" He snapped.

"If you'd gone through something like that, wouldn't you want to make them pay?"

He froze, then angrily said, "He's no different from anything else we've hunted, all right? We gotta end him."

"We're not going to kill Max," Sam set his jaw.

"Then what?" Dean scowled. "Hand him over to the cops and say 'lock him up officer, he kills with the power of his mind'?"

"No way. Forget it." Sam looked stubbornly at Dean.

He turned off the engine. "Sam…"

"Dean, he's a person," Sam reasoned. "We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one."

There was a long pause. "All right, fine. But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else."

Dean removed his Taurus pistol from the glove compartment, glaring at Sam and opening the door.

We went in.

~Supernatural~

We burst through the front door.

Max and his mother were at a standoff.

"Fathers?" His mother asked, bewildered.

"What are you doing here?" Max's eyes narrowed.

"Ah, sorry to interrupt," Dean said smoothly.

"Max, can we talk to you outside for just one second?" Sam's tone was unhurried and calm.

"About what?" Max looked at us suspiciously.

"It's…it's private," I stammered. "We wouldn't want to bother your mother with it," I continued.

"We won't be long at all though, I promise," I told Ms. Miller, quelling my dislike for her.

Max looked at her, then back. "Ok."

"Great." Sam's relief was apparent.

We turned for the door, and Max followed us.

Dean grasped the doorknob, and Max caught sight of the gun in Dean's waistband.

The knob was pulled from Dean's hand, and the door slammed shut.

Max backed up. "You're not priests," he said.

Dean drew his gun, but Max jerked it away, sliding it across the floor and picking it up.

He pointed the muzzle at us.

"Max, what's happening?" Ms. Miller looked at him, alarmed.

"Shut up," Max said curtly.

"What are you doing?"

Max flung his mother backwards, and her head hit the kitchen bench with an ominous crack.

Ms. Miller fell to the floor, unconscious.

"I said shut up!" He roared.

"Max, calm down," Sam tried to placate him.

"Who are you?" He cocked the gun.

"We just wanna talk," I kept my voice steady.

"Yeah right, that's why you brought this!" The pistol moved.

"That was a mistake, all right?" Sam's voice was frantic. "So was lying about who we were. But no more lying, Max, ok? Just please, hear us out."

"About what?" Max growled.

"I saw you do it. I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened."

Max stared at him. "What?"

"I'm having visions, Max. About you." Sam pulled me forward.

"Odette sees them, too."

Max slowly shook his head. "You're crazy."

"So what, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" Sam tapped his eye.

"Right here? Is it that hard to believe, Max? Look what you can do."

"Let us help you, Max," I pleaded, aching for the tortured boy before me.

A tear fell down his cheek. "What would you know? You're pretty and people probably like you everywhere you go. How could you possibly understand? No one can help me."

I flinched. "That doesn't mean I'm happy, Max. I've got daddy issues myself."

I heard the twin inhalations from Sam and Dean as I automatically traced the thin scar just below my elbow.

"Let me try," Sam said. "We'll talk, you and me. We'll get Dean and Alice and Odette out of here."

"Uh-uh. No way," Dean glared at Sam.

Overhead, the chandelier began to shake.

"Nobody leaves this house!" Max shouted, and a vein stuck out in his neck.

"And nobody has to, all right?" Sam's tone was light, soothing. "They'll just…they'll just go upstairs."

"Sam, I'm not leaving you alone with him." Dean crossed his arms.

"Yes, you are." Sam turned to Max.

"Look, Max, you're in charge, here, all right, we all know that. No one's going to do anything you don't want to do, but I'm talking five minutes here, man."

"Sam!" Dean moved as if to grab him, but I pulled him back.

Max looked back at his stepmother. "Five minutes?"

The chandelier stopped shaking.

"Go."

~Supernatural~

I stared in horror.

We hadn't been able to get through to Max.

The gun, in midair, turned to point at Alice.

"Max. No." She trembled, backing away from him.

Dean stepped in front of her.

Nails cutting into my palms, I did the same.

I caught something like approval in Dean's eyes, and that boosted my courage.

"Stay back," Max warned us. "It's not about you."

Dean gritted his teeth. "You're going to kill her, you gotta go through me first."

"Ok."

I shook, inching closer to Dean.

The door burst open, and Sam ran in.

"Castiel busted me out," he told us, slightly nonsensically.

"Don't do this!" Sam begged Max.

"Don't! Please. Please. Max. Max. We can help you. All right. But this, what you're doing. It's not the solution. It's not going to fix anything."

Max was a mess. He was shaking, sweaty, in tears.

He stared at Sam, anguished.

Suddenly, he relaxed, lowering the gun.

Sam smiled at him, but somehow, I knew what was going to happen.

I tried to run to Max, but Dean grabbed me.

The gun swung to point at Max.

He shot himself in the head.

"NO!"

~Supernatural~

"Max attacked me." Ms. Miller shook, hiding her face in the couch. "He threatened me with a gun."

The cop indicated us. "And these three?"

She glanced at us quickly. "They're…family friends. I called them as soon as Max arrived, I was scared. They fought for the gun."

"Where did Max get the gun?" The cop looked at us calculatingly.

We exchanged looks.

Ms. Miller began to cry, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know. He showed up with it and…."

She broke down.

"It's all right, Ms. Miller."

But it wasn't, because one innocent, tortured boy was dead, and no one would ever know what really happened.

That the victim had never been Ms. Miller.

She sobbed. "I've lost everyone."

Contempt for Alice rose up inside me, hot and angry.

If she'd done something, even a little, to show Max she'd cared, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Maybe.

Maybe, one unloved little boy, who'd been beaten all his life, might have thought he still had a reason to live.

The last thing I heard as we left the house was Alice Miller's broken wail.

**Whew! That took too long! I am tired! **

**Reviews are love!**


	34. The Milk Of Human Kindness

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**The Benders, people!**

**I wanted Odette in place of Sam, because well….. just 'cause, all right? *****gets defensive*******

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Garideth- Thanks! Yeah, it made me happy writing it! Does Cas care? Well….. why don't you judge?**

**ccgnme- Thank you! Yes, I always thought 'Nightmare' was one of the saddest episodes in season one. I wanted to do it justice!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! I'm happy you thought so!**

**I guess everyone knows where I pulled this chapter's name?**

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR- THE MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS

"I know you're just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don't see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story, the more he believes it's true."

I sighed, turning to stand behind the silent Castiel.

"Mrs. McKay, we know you spoke with the local authorities."

"But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police, so…" Dean smiled charmingly.

"Don't worry about how crazy it sounds, Evan. You just tell us what you saw," Sam urged.

Evan peeked at me, and I gave him a friendly wave.

"I was up late, watching TV," Evan's eyes grew wide and bright, "When I heard this weird noise."

"What did it sound like?" Castiel spoke, his voice rusty from disuse.

"It sounded like…" His voice dwindled, becoming small and reedy. "A monster."

The four of us exchanged a look.

Mrs. McKay heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Tell the officers what you were watching on TV."

Evan pushed out his lip sulkily. "Godzilla vs. Mothra."

I concealed my laugh, and Dean smiled.

"That's my favorite Godzilla movie!" Dean exclaimed excitedly. "It's so much better than the original, huh?"

"Totally!" Evan grinned.

"Yeah." Dean nodded towards Sam. "He likes the remake."

"Yuck!" Evan screwed up his face in disgust.

Sam glared at Dean and cleared his throat pointedly.

Dean stopped, and I stifled my chuckle, though I wasn't sure whether it was because of Dean's mischievousness or Castiel's perplexed expression.

"Evan, did you see what this thing was?" Sam crouched down to the boy.

"No, but I saw it grab Mr. Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car."

"Then what?" Castiel looked at Evan impassively.

"It took him away. I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound."

"What did it sound like, Evan?" Sam searched his face.

"Like this…whining growl."

Dean and Sam exchanged another look.

"Thanks for your time," Dean nodded at Mrs. McKay.

~Supernatural~

I leant against the Impala's hood, waiting for Sam and Dean to come out of Kugel's Keg.

The case was odd, somehow.

No phantom traveler in lore had ever snatched people anywhere else but their beds.

I glanced around uneasily, paranoia setting in.

Something clinked, and I stiffened.

I padded forward, bending to look under the car.

A small tabby cat hissed at me, streaking out from under the car in a tiny gray blur.

"Whoa!" I backed away, laughing at myself.

I really _was _getting paranoid.

That's when something grabbed my legs out from under me.

~Supernatural~

I came to with a strangled yelp, my arms brushing against metal.

I glanced around, holding one hand to my throbbing head as I did so.

This was not good.

I was locked in a cage in some unknown place, and I had no way of calling Dean and Sam.

Panic set in, and I tried to kick down the door of my cage to no avail.

A guttural groan made me flatten myself against the farthest wall of the cage, and I peered at the enclosure opposite me.

A squat, bearded man groaned again, eyes blinking up at me.

I recognized him from the flyers, and crawled forward to talk to him.

"You're alive." I breathed out in relief, staring at him worriedly when he moaned.

"Hey, you okay?"

He glared at me. "Does it look like I'm doin' okay?"

I pulled at the bars of my prison. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," the man answered testily.

"The country, I think. Smells like the country."

I massaged my head. "You're Alvin Jenkins, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Jenkins grunted.

I sighed. "We were lookin' for you, my friends and I."

"Oh, yeah?" The bite in his voice was impossible to miss.

"Yeah," I agreed wryly.

He snorted. " Yeah, right. What are you, fifteen, maybe? No offense, but this is a piss-poor rescue."

I flushed. "My friends are out there right now. They're lookin' for us. So-"

He interrupted me irritably. "So, they're not gonna find us. We're in the middle of nowhere."

He nodded towards the door leading into the building.

"Waiting for them to come back and do God knows what to us."

I repressed a shudder.

"What are they? Have you seen them?"

"What are you talking about?" Jenkins eyed me oddly.

I shifted impatiently.

"Whatever's got us, what'd they look like?"

"See for yourself."

The door to the building opened with a bang. Two men wearing black coats and hats walked in, eying us as if we were slabs of meat to be bought.

The larger of the two walked over to Jenkins' cage and kicked it.

Jenkins moved into a corner, and I watched apprehensively as the other man went to the panel of buttons attached to a pole in the middle of the room.

He inserted a small key into the panel and twisted it.

Jenkins' cage unlocked.

The men entered, and Jenkins' nostrils flared.

"Leave me alone!" He yelled, eyes dilating in fear. "Don't you take me, leave me alone!"

They placed a plate of food in front of him, and exited the building.

One of the men turned the key again, locking his cage.

We were trapped.

Jenkins devoured his food, and I attempted to curb the instant roll of nausea that appeared as I saw it.

I sucked in a huge breath.

"They're just _people_," I whispered in shock.

He laughed. "Yeah. What'd you expect?"

I ignored him. "How often do they feed you?"

"Once a day," Jenkins grimaced. "And they use that thing over there to open the cage."

He pointed to the panel.

"And that's the only time you see 'em?"

I huddled in on myself in the draughty room.

"So far," he narrowed his eyes. "But I'm waitin'."

I raised an eyebrow. "Waitin' for what?"

Jenkins grunted again. "Ned Beatty time, kid."

I managed a small chuckle.

"I think that's the least of your worries right now."

"Oh, yeah?" His eyes questioned my sanity.

"Yeah," I said again.

"What do you think they want, then?"

I reached through the top of my cage, grabbing a long metal wire stretching from the top of the pole to the ground.

Frowning, I tried to pull it down.

"Depends on who they are," I told him.

"They're a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks, if you ask me," Jenkins glowered. "Lookin' for love in all the wrong places."

I continued to pull on the wire, and it gradually started to detach from the pole.

~Supernatural~

I tugged on the metal coil.

"What's your name, again?" Alvin watched me steadily.

"It's Odette."

"Why don't you give it up, sweetheart? There's no way out." Jenkins looked at me almost sympathetically.

"Don't…. call me….. sweetheart," I panted.

I groaned, finally tearing down the coil.

A small piece of metal fell to the floor.

Jenkins peered at it. "What is it?"

I picked it up slowly. "It's a bracket."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, thank God, a bracket. Now we've got 'em, huh?"

Suddenly, Jenkins cage unlocked itself and opened.

"Must've been short."

He climbed out clumsily.

"Maybe you knocked something loose."

A flicker of unease passed through me. "I think you should get back in there, Jenkins."

"What?" He looked at me as if I'd lost it.

"This isn't right," I muttered.

"Don't you wanna get out of here?" He demanded.

"Yeah." I nodded. "But that was too easy."

Jenkins sighed. "Look, I'm gonna get out of here, and I'm gonna send help, okay, don't worry."

I pushed at the bars.

"No, I'm serious. Jenkins- this might be a trap."

"Bye, sweetheart."

"Jenkins!"

He left in an instant.

I curled into the cool metal of the cage, cold, afraid and miserable.

A strange yearning for Sam's friendly smile, Cas' steady presence and Dean's laconic smirk engulfed me.

Would they ever find me?

I measured the time by the dripping of water from the ceiling.

Fifteen minutes later, I heard Alvin Jenkins' agonized scream.


	35. Cruelty Has A Human Heart

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**This was one creepy episode…..**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Not my best work, I'm afraid. Sleep deprivation does not elicit much good.**

**Garideth- Thanks! Yeah, I agree with you there, it reminded me of just how cruel we humans can be…**

**AngelicScream- Thank you! Hopefully, I'll put up a chapter tomorrow, if not, then definitely Sunday!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! Oh, this is nothing compared to what I have in store for Odette…**

**The name of this chapter is from William Blake.**

_Cruelty has a human heart,_

_ And jealousy a human face;_

_ Terror the human form divine,_

_ And secrecy the human dress_

_ The human dress is forged iron,_

_ The human form a fiery forge,_

_ The human face a furnace sealed,_

_ The human heart its hungry gorge_

_._

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE- CRUELTY HAS A HUMAN HEART

My back thudded against the wall of the cage, and I shuddered, Jenkins' scream still resounding in my ears.

A deep, throaty howl akin to that of a wounded animal echoed through the room

I curled into a ball, trying to block out the sound.

"HELP ME, PLEASE!"

I covered my ears, wanting to help him, but I was trapped.

Useless.

Hadn't I warned him?

All at once, it cut off with a choked gurgle.

I knew what that meant.

Jenkins was dead.

I stuffed a hand in my mouth to keep from crying out.

I froze, as the cage unlocked of its own accord, creaking open.

Another trap?

On my hands and knees, I crawled forward, peering out the cage.

I blinked in amazement.

"Castiel?"

~Supernatural~

I stared at him, vaguely thinking of rubbing my eyes to see if I were dreaming.

Warm relief rushed through me. He was really here.

He met my gaze steadily.

"Dean and Sam are looking for you. They should be here shortly."

Realizing I was still in the cage, I scrambled out as fast as I could.

"Sam is worried," Castiel added.

I walked up to him.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He inclined his head as acknowledgment.

"We should leave," I muttered.

Castiel turned on his heel and pressed his finger to my forehead.

I swayed, the pain in my head increasing, as I found myself outside the building I'd been trapped in.

"I shall leave you now," Castiel looked ahead at the dirt path and I followed his eyes, making out the faint shape of a car trundling towards us.

"Wait!" I called out, but he was already gone.

Sighing, I waited as the car jerked to a stop.

Confusion spiked my headache.

It wasn't the Impala.

This was a police car.

I stepped back warily, relaxing only when Sam and Dean climbed out of the car.

"You're all right," Sam gave a relieved smile, squeezing my shoulder for a brief second.

I leant into the contact, surprised and pleased.

I would never be able to forget Jenkins' screams, his plea for help.

Help I could not give to him.

Dean scowled darkly.

"Kid, I will personally chain you to my car if you do that again."

There might've been a hint of relief in there somewhere, but I was almost sure it was my imagination.

Sam, perceptive as always, glanced at me worriedly.

Uneasy, I fixed my attention on the cop standing next to Dean.

She smiled warmly at me.

"Hi, Odette. I'm Kathleen. Your brothers," I started slightly. "Asked me to help find you."

"What did they look like?" Dean stared pointedly at me, and I took the hint.

"People," I answered. "Just people."

His eyes narrowed, and Sam's widened.

I steadied myself with a hand on the car, and Dean caught the movement.

He looked at me properly, then, and groaned.

"Please tell me you ain't got a concussion,"

Sam instantly stuffed me inside the car, and I could not even summon up the energy to be indignant about it.

"I don't have a concussion?" It came out as more of a question.

Sam stared at me.

"Headache?"

"Yeah."

"Nausea?"

I nodded.

"Dizziness?"

"Yes," I exhaled heavily.

Dean and Sam fought for shotgun, and Dean ended up in the backseat, grumbling audibly.

I rested my head on the windowpane, closing my eyes.

"Did you find out anything about Jenkins?"

My breath hitched painfully, and I turned my head away from Dean.

"Odette?" Sam's concerned voice invaded my silence, and I opened my eyes.

"He's dead."

Kathleen swore, turning the car around.

"How do you know that?" Dean persisted.

I gulped, my fingers unconsciously wringing themselves together.

"He was in the other cage with me. His unlocked. I told him it was a trap, but he didn't listen."

"I think it's a game for them," I kept my voice low, subdued. "They hunt the people they capture, I guess. For fun."

I could not keep my voice from trembling.

"I heard Jenkins screaming."

I screwed my eyes shut.

"Alright, kid," Dean's voice was gentler than before. "We'll leave you at the hotel, then we catch these guys."

"Absolutely not," Kathleen snapped. "You are civilians, and felons, too, I might add, so you will stay with your sister and let me do my job."

I distantly wondered what the Winchesters had done now.

"Kathleen, you might need our help," Sam objected, but she ignored him.

"Thank you, but no."

She dropped us off at our hotel, and I had to be half-dragged to my room.

I promptly collapsed on my bed, hugging a pillow to my face, and was asleep in minutes.

~Supernatural~

"Odette. Wake up."

I moaned, covering my face with the pillow.

The voice persisted.

"Odette. Dean and Sam are in trouble."

That got to me.

I rolled off the bed at once, wincing as the pain my head returned.

I looked up at Castiel.

"Where are they?" I said, blinking the sleep out of my eyes.

"Where you were trapped," Castiel extended an arm, and I hastily stepped forward.

The world spun, and I found myself in front of the same building I'd been in before.

"Dean is being held captive, and Sam is trying to find the human woman."

Kathleen.

"I think they might've got her, too, Castiel."

I looked at the ramshackle place, and made up my mind.

"You get Dean out. I know how to open the cage, I think."

I entered.

~Supernatural~

The lanky, unwashed man kicked open Kathleen's cage, and I moved forward cautiously.

"You're going to die, little bitch," he growled, gun cocked at Kathleen's dark head.

I braced myself for what I was about to do.

This would give her enough time to run, I hoped.

If I couldn't help Jenkins, at least I could save her.

I sucked in a giant breath.

"Hey!" I yelled.

The man turned the gun on me with an anticipatory smirk.

"Well, well, well, it's our pretty little birdie come home to roost."

He pulled the trigger.

~Supernatural~

Out of nowhere, Sam knocked me to the ground, and I gasped for breath.

The bullet sailed by harmlessly.

"You shouldn't have come," he hissed.

He aimed another shot at Sam, but Kathleen wrestled him to the ground, pulling the gun out of his grasp.

He rolled away from Kathleen, getting up with a snarl, until Sam punched him in the stomach.

He fell limply to the floor.

Almost instantly, a loud baritone drifted through to the room.

"Lee? Where are ya? Lee?"

Sam pressed a finger to his lips.

~Supernatural~

"Lee?" I heard the voices clearly, hiding behind the bale of hay with Sam.

He kept a hand on my shoulder.

There was a low curse.

They must've found Lee unconscious in the cage.

"Damn it, Jared," I flinched, "Get the lights!"

The man named Jared presumably flipped the lights, but the barn remained dark.

"They must've blown the fuses," I heard him mutter.

Sam pressed my hand lightly.

The signal.

We moved forward stealthily, and out of the corner of my eyes I saw Kathleen move towards a dirty white cabinet.

The men moved into another room.

Sam pulled me along as the larger man climbed a ladder leading to the balcony.

Jared paused in front of the cabinet. He fired several times at the door, but Kathleen did not come out.

He opened the cabinet door, finding nothing but tools, when Kathleen fell on top of his back.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, struggling with him, until she dropped to the ground.

The other man chased us through the barn, firing off shots every minute.

Sam dragged me behind another bale of hay, and we ran through to the room where Kathleen was.

"You stupid bitch," I heard Jared say, firing off a shot which we ducked, and which caught the other man instead.

They both hit the ground with a thud.

Grunting, Sam hauled Jared into the spare cage, setting the control panel.

We returned to see Kathleen standing over the prone man's form.

"I'll watch this one," she said, eyes steely. "You go ahead, find Dean."

We did not move.

"Go ahead," she snapped, and I understood why she wanted to stay.

Kathleen needed the closure.

I pulled on Sam's hand, and we left.

~Supernatural~

We walked down the porch steps, and met up with Kathleen walking out of the barn.

"Where's the girl?" She asked Dean.

I looked at him curiously.

"Locked her in a closet," he answered, evidently in a foul mood about something.

He glanced at me, then. "I suppose Castiel brought you here?"

I nodded mutely. "Did he bust you out?"

Dean glared at me, and I took that as confirmation.

What about the dad?"

Kathleen paused. "Shot. Trying to escape."

My eyes flashed up to meet hers.

We both knew she was lying.

~Supernatural~

"So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour. They're gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you're long gone by then."

"Thanks," Dean grinned. "Hey, listen, I don't mean to press our luck, but we're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?"

Kathleen stared at him blankly. "Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car."

"Sounds great to me," Sam cleared his throat noisily. "Thanks."

I lingered for a second, looking back at Kathleen.

"I'm sorry about your brother," I told her, and I knew it would never be enough.

"Not as sorry as I am," she smiled bitterly.

Kathleen watched us leave, close to tears.

.


	36. What Lurks In The Dark

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Shadow, people! The daeva was freakin' creepy…..**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Garideth- Thanks! Would it be a bit lame if I said that I was super happy about the name of the chapter most of all?**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! :D **

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX- WHAT LURKS IN THE DARK

I fidgeted, uncomfortable in my new outfit.

"All right, this is the place," I heard Sam say, and I stepped out apprehensively.

I tottered in my heels, silently cursing the need to wear them.

Dean shot something of a grin my way, guessing my predicament.

He nudged Sam, who glanced over, considerately trying not to laugh.

Dean had no such inhibitions.

"Sorry, Odette," Sam fought a smile. "Nobody's gonna believe you're older unless you look a little…." He coughed awkwardly.

Taller.

Of course.

I flushed, turning even redder when I tripped and Sam decided to help me navigate the cobbled street.

Dean's snickers were embarrassingly loud.

~Supernatural~

I flinched, the stench of death and decay strong in my nose.

"Thanks for lettin' us look around," Sam smiled at the landlady.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so…." We moved further into the room.

Dean shut the apartment door, gesturing to the chain.

It was broken.

The carpet in the living room was spotted with dark, clotted blood.

"You guys said you were with the alarm company?"

I tried to nod convincingly.

I'd always been a bad liar.

"That's right," Dean inserted smoothly, shuffling me behind him.

The landlady scowled. "Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man."

There was an awkward pause.

"Well, that's why we're here," Dean recovered quickly. "To see what went wrong and stop it from happening again."

"Now, ma'am, you found the body?" Sam looked at her expectantly.

"Yeah." She replied tersely.

"Right after it happened?" Sam persisted.

"No. Few days later," she surveyed the room with distaste. "Meredith's work called- she hadn't shown up. I knocked on the door. That's when I noticed the smell."

"Any windows open? Any sign of a break-in?" Dean crossed his arms, waiting.

"No, windows were locked, front door was bolted." She answered. "Chain was on the door, we had to cut it just to get in."

"And the alarm was still on?" Dean's eyebrow rose.

"Like I said, bang-up job your company's doin'."

I tried to stay out of her sightline.

~Supernatural~

"So, get anything from the cops?"

Sam waved the EMF meter, and it beeped frantically.

"Uh, yeah," Dean smirked. "I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law."

"Yeah? What'd you find out?"

I knew what was coming.

Dean's eyes unfocused. "Well, she's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean—wow. Oh, and she's got this little tattoo-"

"Dean!" Sam sighed heavily.

I had half a mind to join him.

He blinked rapidly. "What? Yeah. Uh, nothin' we don't already know. Except for one thing they're keepin' out from the papers."

"Hm?" Sam tugged out the toolbox.

"Meredith's heart was missing."

We were both stunned.

"Her heart?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah. Her heart."

"So, what do you think did it to her?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was—a werewolf?"

I concealed my squeak of surprise.

"No, no werewolf, the lunar cycle's not right," Sam replied, perfectly calm.

"See if you can find any masking tape around," Dean picked up his toolbox.

~Supernatural~

Dean connected each pool of blood with the masking tape, stepping back to take a look.

"Ever see that symbol before?" Sam poked at it experimentally.

"Never," Dean answered.

"Me neither."

We exchanged a look.

~Supernatural~

I tapped my foot by the car, impatiently waiting for Dean and Sam to come out of the bar.

Ever since the Benders had captured me, I'd been afraid of being on my own in most places.

Not that I would ever tell them.

I sighed with relief, then paused in confusion when I heard Dean talking.

"Who the hell was she?"

"I don't really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don't know, man, it's weird."

I pinched my nose worriedly.

What was going on now?

"And what was she saying?" Dean demanded. "I treat you like luggage? What, you were bitchin' about me to some chick?"

I poked Sam in the ribs.

He blinked at me, then got the hint. "Yeah, I ran into somebody I met back in the bar."

Dean glared at him.

Sam exhaled heavily. "Look, I'm sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was at the bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important, just listen-"

Dean wasn't having it. "Well, is there any truth to what she's saying? I mean, _am_ I keeping you against your will, Sam?"

Both of us were staring at him now.

"No, of course not," Sam sounded exasperated. "Now, would you listen?"

"What?" Dean snapped, much the same way as he answered me, most of the time.

"I think there's somethin' strange going on here, Dean."

"Yeah, tell me about it," he snorted. "She wasn't even that into me."

I bit back a smile.

"No, man," Sam waved it aside. "I mean like our kind of strange. Like, maybe even a lead."

"Why do you say that?" Dean's eyes narrowed.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Random coincidence. It happens."

"Yeah it happens," Sam's tone was skeptical. "But not to us. Look, I could be wrong, I'm just sayin' that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on."

Dean smirked. "Well, I'd bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her, huh?"

I chuckled quietly, and Sam met my gaze, rolling his eyes.

Sam became serious again. "Do me a favor. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor."

"What are you gonna do?" I asked Sam.

"I'm gonna watch Meg."

Dean burst out laughing. "Yeah, you are."

"I just wanna see what's what," Sam said, a tad too defensive. "Better safe than sorry."

"All right, you little pervert," Dean's tone was almost gleeful.

"Dude."

"I'm goin', I'm goin'."

He grabbed me by the elbow. "C'mon, kid, we got work to do."

~Supernatural~

I knew he was there.

"Hello, Odette."

I turned to face him.

"Hey, Castiel."

He surveyed me impassively.

"The symbol you are looking for is Zoroastrian. It is old, ancient even."

His blue eyes hardened slightly. "Thousands of years before Christ, in fact. A sigil to control a daeva."

"Daeva?" The unfamiliar word fell hesitantly from my lips.

He dipped his head. "Savage, animalistic demons. Creatures of darkness."

"Thanks, Castiel."

"Don't thank me yet," He raised his head, eyes pulsating with a strange light. "You have not found it yet. Tell me what the victims have in common, Odette."

I stared at him in bewilderment. "Nothing, they-"

It hit me with a sick swirl of nausea.

Both victims were born in Lawrence, Kansas.


	37. My Shadow Likes To Move

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**It's John Winchester time!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Garideth- Thanks! I'm glad...my inner nerd usually is!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! :D I'm happy you like it!**

**You know, Sam was pretty douchey to Dean in this.**

**Again.**

**So, I couldn't resist. **

**Can you believe I got this chapter's name from a nursery rhyme?**

**Ironic, isn't it?**

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN- MY SHADOW LIKES TO MOVE

"Dean!"

I gingerly tapped his shoulder.

"What now?"

His response was slightly less irritable than it used to be.

I tried to take comfort from that. "Castiel just came. He said the monster was Zoroastrian. A…daeva."

Dean snorted. "The hell's a daeva?"

"Um…. a demon of darkness. They're supposed to be summoned, conjured, really. It's pretty risky, daevas are savage, volatile."

"Huh." He huffed. "How come Angel Boy only comes to you?"

The window burst open.

"I believe it's because she trusts me more than you do, Dean."

Dean cursed loudly, kicking the desk in frustration.

"Man, how many times have I told you not to do that?"

Castiel stared at him expressionlessly.

"I think this is the fourth occasion you have expressed your desire to limit my transporting myself from place to place."

Dean banged his head against the table.

~Supernatural~

"So hot little Meg is summoning the daeva?"

"Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing." Sam nodded.

Dean smirked. "So, Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl." He chuckled.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"What's the deal with the bowl again?" Dean waited expectantly.

"From what I gather, the human girl you mentioned was talking into it, much as the way witches used to scry into crystal balls and animal entrails. She seems to be communicating with someone."

We blinked at Castiel for a moment.

Dean was the first to speak. "With who? With the daeva?"

"No." Castiel shook his head. "They are savages, I told you before. Someone is giving her orders, the same person who will come to the warehouse tonight."

I paled as I remembered what Castiel had told me.

"Guys."

I twitched as three pairs of eyes fixed themselves on me.

"The victims. I forgot to tell you. They were…" I bit my lip.

"They were born in Lawrence, Kansas."

~Supernatural~

"We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can."

Dean hung up.

"Voicemail?" Sam's tone was forced, strained.

Dean appeared not to notice.

"Yeah." He gestured to the bags Sam had brought in.

"Jesus, what'd you get?"

Sam chuckled. "I ransacked that trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about half a dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should expect everything.

Dean nodded, and we began loading our guns silently.

I still hated the feel of it against my skin.

"Big night." Dean looked at Sam.

"Yeah. You nervous?"

"No. Why, are you?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"No. No way."

I stared at them both enviously.

I wished I had their courage.

There was silence for a few seconds.

Sam sucked in a breath. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right?" Dean cautioned.

"I know. I'm just sayin'." Sam jiggled his foot impatiently. "What if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school- be a person again."

The gun went limp in my grasp.

Dean stiffened. "You wanna go back to school?"

"Yeah," Sam was oblivious. "Once we're done huntin' the thing."

I froze.

"Huh." Dean's tone was deceptively level.

"Why, is there something wrong with you?"

"No. No, it's, uh, great. Good for you." The effort to remain casual was more pronounced, now.

"I mean, what are you gonna do when it's all over?"

Dean grimaced. "It's never gonna be over, Sam. There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be somethin' to hunt."

"But there's got to be somethin' you want for yourself-"

Dean cut Sam off. "Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam."

He walked over to the dresser, and I shifted, backing away.

This was private.

I didn't belong here.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Sam demanded.

Dean was silent for a while, then he turned back to Sam.

"Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?"

I stepped further away.

"'Cause Dad was in trouble." Sam crossed his arms. "'Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom."

Dean sighed. "Yes, but its more than that, man."

He returned to the dresser. "You and me and Dad—I mean, I want us….. I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again."

Sam brushed away the hair from his forehead. "Dean, we are a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before."

Dean looked as if Sam had kicked him in the stomach, and anger at Sam rose up in me, inexplicably, for throwing away everything I'd lost so easily, anger for Dean, anger for unknowingly mocking me and everything that had been taken away from me.

I paused, shocked.

I hadn't known how attached I'd gotten to them.

To all three of them.

"We could be," Dean was uncharacteristically quiet.

"I don't want them to be," Sam stated baldly. "I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way."

Sam turned away to gather the weapons, leaving Dean motionless.

Had I dared, I would've hugged him, but I didn't.

He didn't like me, anyway.

Instead, while Sam's back was to us, I contented myself by placing a hand on his shoulder.

Dean didn't shake me off as soon as I'd thought he would.

He permitted the contact for a few brief seconds.

I think Dean understood what I didn't have the words to say.

~Supernatural~

We climbed the elevator gate and reached the top room of the warehouse.

Meg stood at the altar, speaking in an ancient, unfamiliar language.

We squeezed into the space between the wall and the gate quietly, drawing our guns. We hid behind a group of crates.

"Guys." Meg's tone was light.

We looked at each other, stunned.

"Hiding's a little bit childish, don't you think?" Meg turned around to face us.

"Well, that didn't work out like I'd planned." Dean swore.

"Why don't you come out?"

We moved forward warily. Dean and Sam pushed me behind them.

Meg noticed. "Aw, look how cute." She turned to Sam.

"Sam, I have to say, this puts a real cramp on our relationship."

He scoffed. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"So, where's your little daeva friend?" Dean's voice was thickly layered with sarcasm.

"Around." Meg shrugged casually. "You know, that shotgun's not gonna do much good."

Dean growled. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The shotgun's not for the demon."

"So, who is it, Meg?" Sam attempted to move further, but Dean pulled him back. "Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?"

"You." She grinned.

The shadow demon began to form on the wall. It knocked Sam to the ground, throwing Dean and I into the crates.

~Supernatural~

Sam finally came around, and I struggled against my bonds.

We were tied to three separate posts. Meg was sitting in front of us.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean tugged at his rope. "Don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend…. is a bitch."

Sam ignored him. "This, the whole thing, was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearin' what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn't it?"

Meg laughed. "It doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all."

"You killed those two people for nothing," I whispered, horrified.

She crouched down to me. "Darling, I've killed a lot more for a lot less."

"You trapped us." Dean interrupted. "Good for you. It's Miller time."

He smiled. "But why don't you kill us already?"

I pressed my lips together to keep from whimpering.

Meg leaned in closer. "Not very quick on the uptake, are we? This trap isn't for you."

I realized it at the same time Sam did.

"Dad. It's a trap for Dad."

Dean looked at Meg. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Oh, sweetheart—you're dumber than you look." Dean was obviously relieved. "Even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good."

Meg's tone was grudging. "He is pretty good. I'll give you that." She walked over to him and sat down, straddling his legs.

"But you see, he has one weakness."

"What's that?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You." She smiled widely. "He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he's in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the daevas will kill everybody—nice and slow and messy."

She grabbed my jaw, and I writhed futilely.

"Oh, you poor, pretty little thing." She stroked my hair, and I twisted away, disgusted. "There's no one left to save you, is there?"

"Shut up." I pulled away.

"Well, I've got news for ya." Dean smirked cockily. "It's gonna take a lot more than some….shadow to kill him."

"Oh, the daevas are in the room here—they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see."

"Why you doin' this, Meg?" Sam tried to move his arms. "What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?"

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do—loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy-and Jess."

Pain sparked in Sam's eyes.

Pain and anger.

"Go to hell," he snarled.

"Baby, I'm already there." She smiled and slid over to Sam.

Something scraped on Dean's side of the room. Meg walked over to him, seeing that he had a knife in his hand.

Meg snatched it away, tossing it in the corner. She swung around to the other side of the post, smiling at Dean.

He chuckled guiltily.

Meg slid back over to Sam. "Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?"

"No. No. That's because I have a knife of my own."

Confusion crossed Meg's pretty face.

Sam broke free of his ropes and grabbed Meg's shoulders, knocking his head against hers.

She fell to the floor while he groaned in pain.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. "Get the altar!"

Sam crossed the room in three long strides, overturning the altar.

The daeva appeared, seizing Meg.

She was dragged across the floor, crashing through the window.

Sam cut us free, and we ran to the window.

Meg was sprawled out on the sidewalk.

She wasn't moving.

~Supernatural~

We walked back to our hotel room.

I was badly shaken, but I did my best not to show it.

I don't think I fooled anybody.

"Why didn't you just leave that stuff in the car?" Dean nudged Sam.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again." Sam sighed. "Better safe than sorry."

Dean unlocked the door and we entered the room.

I froze as I saw the silhouette of a man standing by the window.

"Hey!"

Sam flipped on the lights.

The man turned around.

Dean and Sam stopped in their tracks.

"Dad?"

The man with the rugged, weather-beaten face smiled slightly.

"Hey, boys."

Dean and John walked over, and Dean enveloped him in a tight hug.

Sam watched sadly, and I patted his hand.

He glanced over, surprised, and I smiled as best as I could.

They pulled apart, and John turned to Sam.

"Hi, Sam."

Sam placed the bag full of weapons on the floor.

"Hey, Dad," he said softly.

"Dad, it was a trap," Dean hung his head. "I didn't know, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," I began retreating to my adjoining room. "I thought it might've been."

"Were you there?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?"

Dean and Sam spoke in unison. "Yes, sir."

"Good." John nodded in approval. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."

"The demon has?" Sam paced the floor.

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell—actually kill it."

"How?"

John laughed quietly at Dean.

"I'm workin' on that."

"Let us come with you. We'll help."

Dean shot Sam a warning look.

"No, Sam." John shook his head. "Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt."

I backed away further, into my own room.

"Dad, you don't have to worry about us," Sam urged.

"Of course I do," I heard him say. "I'm your father."

He paused. "Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir."

"It's good to see you again." I heard the hesitance in his voice. "It's been a long time."

"Too long." Sam hugged John in an instant.

I saw the tears Sam was too proud to shed.

He'd made peace with his father.

The ache in my chest started up again, full force.

I turned away.

I didn't have the heart to watch.

All of a sudden, the daeva returned, sending John flying into a cabinet.

Sam also fell, and I was catapulted against the wall.

"No!" Dean shouted.

~Supernatural~

We screamed as we were flung across the room.

My shriek scratched at my throat as something hot and metallic coursed down my face.

Sam made his way to the weapons bag, pulling out a flare.

"Shut your eyes!" Sam lit the flare. "These things are shadow demons, so let's light 'em up!"

I screwed my eyelids shut.

The room was instantly filled with smoke and a brilliant white light.

The daeva vanished.

I coughed, spluttering, trying to feel my way around the room.

"Dad!" Dean's yell grated on my ears.

"Over here!" I heard him reply.

Dean helped John up, and I wiped at my streaming eyes, irritated from the smoke.

"Odette?" I could feel Sam grab my ankle.

"Here!" I said anyway.

He propped me up, and I smiled gratefully.

~Supernatural~

We exited the building, walking rapidly down an alley to the Impala.

Sam put the bag of weapons in the backseat.

John finally seemed to notice me, rocking back on his heels in surprise.

I waited anxiously.

He put out his hand. "You must be Odette."

My hand was lost in his firm grip.

He eyed me strangely.

"I figured you'd be….older."

I didn't know how to respond to that.

Sam broke the awkward silence. "All right, come on. We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back."

"Wait, wait." Dean caught hold of Sam. "Sam, wait. Dad, you can't come with us."

I was as shocked as Sam.

"What? What are you talkin' about?" His eyes swiveled from Dean to John.

"You boys." John was visibly shaken. "You're beat to hell."

"We'll be alright," Dean responded mechanically.

"Dean, we should stick together," Sam was frantic. "We'll go after those demons-"

Dean shook his arm. "Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop, they're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. He's vulnerable when he's with us."

His breath hitched. "He's—he's stronger without us around."

"Dad, no." Sam put a hand on John's shoulder, but it was too late.

"After everything, after all the time we spent lookin' for you—please. I gotta be a part of this fight. " Sam's eyes were misting over.

John seemed to age ten years in an instant. "Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've got to trust me, son. You gotta let me go."

There was utter silence.

This was bringing up too many memories for me.

Sam patted John's shoulder once, then let go.

He exchanged a look with Dean, then walked to his truck.

John Winchester drove away into the night.


	38. One Little Heartbeat At A Time

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Garideth- Thank you! Out of general curiosity, were you able to not cry? :P**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Yes, Shadow made me sniffle, too!**

**I'm not doing Hell House- sorry, no thank you.**

**It annoyed me a little, anyway. **

**(Um, there is going to be no SamxOdette. Sheesh! Where'd you guys get the idea, anyway?)**

**So, Something Wicked it is! I love this episode!**

**Possible clue, up ahead! :D**

**Chapter name borrowed from Steven Curtis Chapman.**

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT- ONE LITTLE HEARTBEAT AT A TIME

"Kid. Wake up." Dean's familiar voice made me rouse myself reluctantly.

I woke to a face full of plaid.

Somehow, I'd fallen asleep in Sam's lap.

My cheeks turned beet-red, and I got up in a hurry, opening my mouth to apologize.

Sam smiled warmly at me. "I don't mind."

I blushed again, but this time, I was pleased.

I was mildly surprised to see Castiel in the shotgun seat.

Dean turned around to smirk at us. "Aw, aren't you guys just adorable?"

I turned pink.

Sam's glare did not faze him in the slightest.

"Don't mind Sam," Dean grinned smugly. "He's a bit of a mother hen."

"Dean?"

His expression soured slightly as Castiel spoke.

"What?"

"Why did you liken Sam to a female chicken?"

~Supernatural~

Sam leant against the Impala, staring ahead.

Dean crossed the road to us, holding three coffees.

The light from the diner was warm and inviting, but of course, we couldn't stay.

Dean handed me my macchiato, and I stared in surprise.

I hadn't expected him to remember.

He raised an eyebrow, silently daring me to ask.

I decided to keep quiet.

Satisfied, Dean turned to Sam.

"Well, the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that no one's heard about anything freaky going on."

Sam did not shift his gaze. "Dean, you got the time?"

He gave a cursory look at his watch.

"Ten after four. Why?"

Sam indicated the town of Fitchburg. "What's wrong with this picture?"

He'd been watching a playground.

It was deserted, and only one little girl was climbing the monkey bars.

"School's out, isn't it?" Dean looked quizzically at the park.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "So where is everybody?"

"This place should be crawling with kids." I realized uneasily.

Dean approached a woman sitting on a park bench.

"Sure is quiet out here," he said conversationally.

"Yeah, it's a shame," the woman shook her head sadly.

"Why's that?" Dean's tone was infinitesimally sharper.

The woman didn't notice. "You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing."

I twitched nervously.

Castiel picked up on the movement, and my unease grew.

He couldn't find out.

"How many?"

"Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching."

The four of us watched the little girl play by herself.

~Supernatural~

We entered and approached the desk of the receptionist.

I hung back.

I hated hospitals; I hadn't set foot in one, not after-

Castiel swung his head around to me as I cut the thought short.

Sam distracted me.

"Dude. Dude, I am _not_ using this ID." The petulance in his voice brought a smile to my lips.

"Why not?" Dean demanded.

"'Cause it says bikini inspector on it!"

I tried not to laugh, and failed completely.

Dean grinned mischievously.

"Don't worry, she won't look that close all right? Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence, Sammy."

He spun Sam to face the desk, and gestured for Castiel and I to follow him.

"Hi." Sam cleared his throat. "I'm Doctor Jerry Caplin, from disease control."

The receptionist looked up, bored. "Can I see some ID?"

Down the corridor, next to me, Dean sniggered.

Sam shot Dean a dirty look. "Yeah, of course."

He quickly flashed his ID.

"Now could you direct me to the pediatrics ward, please?"

"Okay, well, just go down that hall, turn left and up the stairs."

Sam walked to Dean, glowering at him.

Dean was still grinning. "See. I told you it would work."

Sam's only response was a growl.

~Supernatural~

"Thanks for seeing us Dr. Heidecker," Dean smiled amiably at him.

"Well, I'm glad you're here." Heidecker's face was exhausted. "I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyway?"

"Oh, some GP," Dean's tone was breezy. "I forgot his name, he called Atlanta and musta beat you to the punch."

"So you say you got six cases so far?" Sam looked at Heidecker.

"Yeah, five weeks." He sighed. "At first we thought it was a garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. And now….."

"Now what?" Castiel spoke up finally.

The exhaustion on the doctor's face was clear.

"Kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are wearing out."

My hands were slick with sweat. This was getting to be too much.

"Excuse me, Dr. Heidecker," A nurse in blue scrubs handed him a sheaf of forms.

"You ever see anything like this before?" Sam crossed his arms.

"Never this severe," Heidecker answered.

"And the way it spreads…" The nurse's face was wan. "That's a new one for me."

"What do you mean?"

"It works its way through families." She pulled at her hair fretfully. "But only the children, one sibling after another."

"You mind if we interview a few of those kids?" Dean waited for her answer.

"They're not conscious."

"None of them?" The words burst from my lips.

"No."

Dean blinked. "Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?"

"If you think it will help." Heidecker glanced at me.

"Keep her away from here, she might just catch it. God knows we've got enough kids in here already."

Dean and Sam's heads snapped up.

Dr. Heidecker gazed at me again, and I shivered.

His stare was almost…. predatory.

~Supernatural~

We stood in front of the man, who slumped in his chair.

"I should get back to my girls," His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"We understand that," Sam smiled encouragingly. "And we really appreciate you talking to us. Now you say Mary is the oldest?"

"Thirteen." He cast his eyes downward.

"OK. And she came down with it first, right? And then…"

"Bethany, the next night."

"Within twenty-four hours?" Sam cocked an eyebrow.

"I guess." The man turned away. "Look, I already went through all this with the doctor."

"Just a few more questions, if you don't mind," Dean coaxed. "How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?"

"No. We think it was an open window."

"Both times?" Dean was skeptical.

"The first time I don't really remember but the second time for sure." He shrugged. "And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed."

"So you think she opened it?" Sam leant against the wall.

"It's a second story window with a ledge. No one else could have."

We walked back down the corridor.

"You know, this might not be anything supernatural," Sam pursed his lips. "It might just be pneumonia."

"It's not." Castiel's tone was flat.

Dean glanced at him oddly.

"I'll tell you one thing."

"What?" Dean focused on Sam.

"That guy we just talked to? I bet it will be a while before he goes home."

~Supernatural~

Sam and Dean checked the room with the EMF meter.

"You got anything over there?"

"No, nothing." Dean huffed, annoyed.

"Yeah, me neither," Sam replied.

They kept checking, and I moved to the window.

I froze as I stared at it.

"Hey, guys?" I called over my shoulder.

"Yeah." Dean looked at me impatiently.

I kept my eyes on the windowsill.

"Castiel was right. It's not pneumonia."

They came over, staring at the handprint rotted into the wood.

"It's rotted." Sam's voice was disbelieving. "What the hell leaves a handprint like that?"

Dean did not move. "I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job."

~Supernatural~

The Impala pulled up to a hotel reception and we got out.

"So what the hell is a shtriga?" Sam was perplexed.

"Kinda like a witch, I think." Dean rubbed his head. "I don't know much about them."

"Well, I've never heard of it." Sam rested against the hood of Dean's car. "And it's not in Dad's journal."

"Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen-seventeen years ago. You were there, you don't remember?"

We both looked at Sam.

"No." He sounded frustrated.

"Guess he caught wind the thing's in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates."

"So wait, this…"

"Shtriga." Dean supplied.

"Right, you think it's the same one Dad hunted before?"

"Yeah, maybe," Dean shrugged.

"But if Dad went after it how come it's still breathing air?"

"'Cause it got away," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Got away?" Sam echoed, unconvinced.

Dean was starting to get exasperated. "Yeah, Sammy, it happens."

He seemed oddly defensive, and pushed me with him inside the reception.

I rang the bell.

A boy of around ten came from the back room. I could see a younger boy watching TV.

"King or two queens?" He asked.

Dean glanced back at Sam. "Two queens and a single."

The boy followed his look and snickered quietly. "Yeah, I bet," he said under his breath.

My lips twitched.

"What'd you say?" Dean's eyes narrowed.

The boy smiled hastily. "Nice car!"

A woman entered, smiling at us both pleasantly.

"Hi."

"Hi," Dean greeted her.

"Checking in?" She placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Yeah," I nodded.

The woman gave the boy a gentle push.

"Ahh, do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner."

"I'm helping a guest!" He protested indignantly.

His mother looked at him pointedly.

He grimaced, turning to go.

The boy addressed his mother. "Two queens," he raised his eyebrows at Dean. "And a single."

Dean attempted a laugh. It came out strained.

"Funny kid."

"Oh yeah," the woman smiled indulgently. "He thinks so. Will that be cash or credit?"

"Do you take MasterCard?"

She nodded.

"Perfect. Here you go."

I had to nudge Dean, who'd spaced out as the woman held out his card.

"Sir?"

Dean finally snapped out of his reverie. "Thanks."

~Supernatural~

Sam and I sat near my laptop.

He beckoned Dean. "Odette and I did some research. You were right; shtrigas are a kind of witch. They're Albanian, but legends about them trace back to ancient Rome. They feed off _spiritus vitae_."

Dean scrunched up his face. "Spiri-what?"

"Vitae," I finished. "It's Latin, translates to 'breath of life'. Kinda like your life force or essence."

"Didn't the doctor say the kids bodies were wearing out?"

"It's a thought." Sam peered at the screen. "You know, she takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold. Anyway, shtriga's can feed off anyone, but they prefer…"

"Children," Dean completed.

"Yeah, probably because they have stronger life force," I bit my lip, repulsed.

"Get this," Sam took my laptop. "Shtrigas are 'invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man."

"No, that's not right." Dean waved his hand at my laptop. "She's vulnerable when she feeds."

"What?" Sam raised his head.

"If you catch her when she's eating, you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron. Ahh…buckshots or rounds, I think."

Sam turned his head. "How do you know that?"

"Dad told me." Dean pulled out his gun. "I remember."

"Oh. So, uh, anything else Dad might have mentioned?" Sam's tone was careful.

"Nope, that's it."

Sam kept staring at Dean.

"What?" He demanded.

"Nothing. Okay, so assuming we can kill it when it eats, we gotta find the thing first. It ain't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting."

"What kinda human disguise?" Dean sat on the bed.

I decided to answer him.

"Historically, something innocuous. Could be anything, but it's usually a feeble old woman, which might be how the 'witches as old crones' legend got started."

Dean crossed the room. "Hang on."

"What?" Sam and I spoke together.

He grabbed a map.

"Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far, and dead centre?"

Sam's eyes widened. "The hospital."

Dean shrugged on his jacket.

"We'd better go."

~Supernatural~

Dean and Sam had returned, tired and discontent.

"We got nothing," Dean growled unhappily.

I saw the owner's son sitting behind the office, looking forlorn.

Dean followed my eyes, and moved to the boy.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dean was oddly gentle.

"My brother's sick." He hunched in on himself.

"The little guy?"

He nodded. "Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault."

"Oh, c'mon, how?" Dean crouched down next to him.

"I shoulda made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't have got pneumonia if the window was latched."

The raw ache in his voice made me throw caution to the winds.

"Listen to me." Dean moved away, surprised at my involvement. "I can promise you this is not your fault."

He did not seem convinced, and impulsively, I clutched his hand.

"I had a little brother, too, you know."

He raised his glistening eyes.

"Feels like it's your job to look after him, isn't it?" My smile slipped off as I heard Dean and Sam huff in surprise.

He nodded mutely.

"It used to be that way for me, too." I muttered inaudibly.

Dean had a strange look on his face, as the boy's mother ran out.

"Michael, come on!" She called.

Dean locked gazes with us. "We're going to kill this thing."

He stared at the distraught mother.

"I want it dead, you hear me?"

~Supernatural~

I sat at the microfiche machine, picking up my phone.

"Hey," Dean's voice was muted.

"Hey. How's the kid?" I think I knew the answer, anyway.

"He's not good." Dean was grim. "Where you at?"

I placed a hand on my forehead. "I'm at the library. I think I know who the shtriga is."

"You what?" Dean's tone sharpened in an instant.

I could hear Sam in the background.

"This shtriga. It chooses different towns. Before this there was Ogdenville, and North Haverbrook, Brockway. Every fifteen-twenty years it hits a new town."

I pressed my temples. "Dean, this thing is barely getting started. All these other places, it went on for months."

My voice trembled.

"Okay, who is it?" Dean's voice was measured, calm.

Probably for my benefit.

"The earliest mention I could find is this place called Black River Falls back in 1890."

I moved further. "I looked at a photograph of a bunch of doctors standing around a kid's bed. One of them was Heidecker."

"And?" He wasn't convinced.

"And this picture was taken in 1893."

~Supernatural~

"That son of a bitch." Dean was fuming.

"We should have thought of this before," Sam was frustrated.

Dean wasn't listening. "Shtrigas focus on kids, right? It'll probably go after Michael next."

"We gotta get him outta here," Sam's mouth leveled into a thin line.

"No." Dean was resolute. "No, that would blow the whole deal."

"What?" Sam was shocked.

"Yeah." Dean's face did not change.

"You wanna use the kid as bait? Are you nuts? No! Forget it. That's out of the question."

Dean sighed. "It's the only way, Sam. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance."

"Michael's a kid," Sam banged the tabletop. "I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook."

They both had a point, but I was with Sam.

There was only one other way.

"No."

Sam and Dean swung their heads my way.

"You don't need Michael. Use me."


	39. The Worm On The Hook

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Garideth- Probably because she did it once before, in Bloody Mary, and 'cuz she's got a weakness for little boys. Don't ask me why. :P**

**KK161990- Thank you! Yes, SW was one of my favorites in S1!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! :) That's odd, I wanted to do the same thing! Now, I can't possibly tell you that! It's for me to know, and you to wonder! *evil Macbeth-witch cackle* (I'm curious, who do **_**you **_**think Odette will end up with?)**

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE- THE WORM ON THE HOOK

"Are you out of your _mind?_" Sam really did look at me as if I'd lost it.

Maybe I had.

It hadn't stopped me before.

Dean was flabbergasted.

"You have a thing for suicide missions, kid? This is the second time this has happened."

"There is no way we're doing this." Sam glared at me.

"Damn straight," Dean agreed with him. That surprised me.

I folded my hands. "Michael is ten, maybe eleven? You can't expect him to do this, he's a kid."

"Neither should you," Sam kicked his chair leg.

I ignored that. "Look, Mary was thirteen, right? I'm just a year older. It'll come, I'm sure of it."

"Not on my watch," Dean was unmoved.

I scrambled to think of something that would convince them.

"Your father didn't send you here to use some helpless kid as bait." I locked eyes with them both. "It's got to be me."

Dean crossed his arms. "That's exactly what we'll be doing if we use you, anyway."

My retort was lost.

I didn't know what to say.

"What else can you do?"

~Supernatural~

Dean hooked up the security camera in the corner of the hotel room, staring into the lense.

I sat behind him in bed.

Sam was watching the feed in the other room.

"This camera has night vision on it so we'll be able to see clear as day," Dean reassured me.

He raised his voice. "Are we good?"

"A hair to the right!" Sam replied.

Dean adjusted the camera.

"What do I do?"

Dean moved to sit on the bed. "Just stay under the covers."

He continued slowly, enunciating every syllable.

"We'll be right in the next room. When it comes, we're gonna get in with guns. So as soon as we do, you roll off this bed and crawl under it."

I nodded. My throat was too dry to speak, anyway.

"Odette, are you sure you wanna do this?"

I didn't answer for a long moment.

"You don't have to, it's okay, I won't be mad."

I turned around to stare at Dean, at that.

"No, I'm okay." I tried not to gulp. "Just don't shoot me."

"We're not going to let anything happen to you." Dean was almost gentle. "I promise."

It helped, a little.

Dean never made false promises.

~Supernatural~

I huddled under the bed, watching.

Waiting.

A long, skeletal hand curled around my window, easing it open.

My throat constricted.

It entered, moving closer to my bed.

The overwhelming urge to run swept over me, and I struggled against it.

I thought of Michael, of the children dying in the hospital.

I thought of my brother, and did not move.

The shtriga moved closer, leaning over the bed.

It grasped my chin in thin, clawed fingers, and I froze, terrified.

It opened it's mouth, sucking in my energy.

My vision dulled.

Dean and Sam burst in, kicking open the door.

They opened fire, shooting it multiple times.

The shtriga fell to the ground.

"Hey!" Sam yelled.

"Odette, down!" Dean commanded.

I rolled under the bed, my breath coming in harsh pants.

"Odette, you all right?"

"Yeah," I answered Dean.

"Just sit tight."

I poked my head warily out from under the bed.

Dean approached the shtriga, gun at the ready.

There was no movement.

He relaxed slightly, glancing at Sam.

It suddenly rose, grabbing Dean by the throat and threw him against the wall.

"Dean!" We both shouted.

The shtriga moved closer, throwing Sam to the ground, falling on him and forcing his mouth open.

Sam struggled to reach for his gun, when it began to draw his energy.

He stilled, face turning grey.

We were all going to die.

The room filled with a brilliant white light, and Castiel threw the shtriga away with an out flung arm.

He placed his finger on it's scabbed forehead, and I closed my eyes on instinct.

The shtriga slowly disintegrated.

~Supernatural~

"Thanks, Castiel." I looked at him gratefully.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean was still grudging, but there was a lot less hostility between him and the angel since Castiel had saved Sam.

I suppressed my smile.

"Ready to leave town?" Dean would never admit it, but he'd been stealthily crowding Sam for all he was worth.

Sam nodded.

"Kid?"

"More than ready," I shivered. This place triggered too many memories.

Castiel turned his head my way, and I involuntarily twitched.

He was much too perceptive.

I grabbed my backpack, claustrophobia setting in.

"Let's go."

~Supernatural~

We stopped in time to hear Michael's excited squeal.

"Mom! Can I go see Asher? Is he alright?"

His mother scooped him up in a tight hug.

"Yeah, Mike, he's gonna be okay."

Just seeing Michael's delighted face showed me it was worth it.

He ran over to us, beaming at me.

"You were right!" He took hold of my hand. "Asher's fine!"

I crouched down to him, smiling. "That's great, Michael."

He sobered slightly, his eyes wide and curious.

"You said you _used_ to be a big sister."

My smile faded.

Michael looked at me with frank, childlike eyes. "Where's your little brother now?"

I was conscious of the three stares boring into my back.

"Someplace good, I hope, Michael."

I don't think I believed it anymore than he did. 


	40. Hometown Glory

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

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**It's Provenance, guys! *****squeal*******

**Lyrics are from 'Consider No Man Happy Until He's Dead' by Juvenescent Beat.**

**Chapter name borrowed from Adele. (Oh, she's amazing)**

_ How many lines must I mouth_

_ Before words begin to form?_

_ So long since I've heard my own voice_

_ I'm screaming now, screaming out loud_

CHAPTER FORTY- HOMETOWN GLORY

"Dean, we got a case," Sam beckoned him over impatiently.

I bit back a smile as Dean flirted with a curvy blonde waitress.

He finally came over when Sam glared at him.

"Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz were both found dead in their own home a few days ago. No prints, no murder weapons, windows and doors locked, the whole shebang."

Dean continued to check out the women in the diner.

"Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department."

"It is not," Castiel, silent till now, finally spoke up.

Dean glared at him, but it was markedly less hostile than before.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked Sam rapidly, eager to be off.

"New York."

I paled, ripping my napkin in two.

It must have been blatantly clear on my face, because Sam's head had jerked up to stare at me.

Castiel's eyes were heavy on mine.

~Supernatural~

Dean slouched in the car, sunglasses on, fast asleep.

I curled up in the backseat, unobtrusively watching Castiel.

I wondered how he always seemed so emotionless.

Sam walked around the car, leaning in to honk the horn.

Dean jumped a foot in the air, mumbling as Sam sat in the driver's seat, laughing.

"Man, that is so not cool," he adjusted his glasses.

"I just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were…..well….out," Sam coughed.

I pointedly looked out the window, suppressing my laughter as Castiel's expression became adorably perplexed.

Dean smirked. "Good times."

"I checked the history of the house," Sam continued. "Nothing strange about the Telescas."

"All right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed objects." Dean furrowed his brow.

"The house is clean," Sam repeated.

"Yeah, I know, you said that," Dean rolled his eyes.

"No, I mean it's empty. No furniture, nothing."

"Where's all their stuff?"

I tried to concentrate on the conversation, I really did.

But I couldn't.

I was _here_.

After I'd sworn I'd never come back.

"You are troubled," Castiel's deep voice made me start in alarm.

Sam's focus instantly shifted onto me.

"No, I'm just tired." My lie sounded weak even to my own ears.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. You woke up an hour ago. Feathers is right."

Castiel looked almost indignant.

"You've been acting weird ever since the time we came here."

"Spill," Dean commanded.

I gave up.

"All right. New York is where I lived before Maine," I closed my eyes for a brief moment.

Silence.

"It's home."

~Supernatural~

I twitched, uneasy, as the people in the auction shot me disbelieving looks.

I'd left this life.

All I had now was a bitter reminder.

"Consignment auction, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me," Dean scoffed.

He snatched a finger sandwich from a tray, tugging at the lapels of his suit.

"I cannot believe you put us in these monkey suits," he grumped.

Sam refrained from complaining, but he did not look happy.

"And you're dressed up six ways to Sunday yourself," Dean added.

"You're wearing heels, and you hate those." Dean made no attempt to control his snigger.

I looked down at my black silk dress and high heels, flushing.

"This is where the crème de la crème of New York comes, Dean. You're going to attract attention if you don't look the part."

I looked ruefully at Castiel, stubbornly wearing his trenchcoat.

He'd flatly refused to change, and I'd deemed it wise not to argue with him.

"These people are looking at you," Sam noticed. "Do you know them?"

I raised my chin, sweeping the room with my gaze.

They stopped staring.

"I recognize a few faces."

I could not give him more than that.

"I don't think I invited you here," We spun around as we heard the man.

The voice was familiar.

Dean raised an eyebrow, about to say something rude, no doubt, when I stepped into view.

He blinked in quick succession. "Odette?"

I ignored Sam and Dean's surprised huffs.

"Hey, Uncle Danny." I smiled wanly.

"How-?"

He didn't need to complete his question.

"Unfinished business," I tried to lie convincingly.

"I see." I didn't know if he believed me. "How are you?"

I glanced at him carefully.

Outwardly, he was put together and composed, every inch the suave businessman he was.

But I could see the signs.

The circles under his eyes, the tightening of his mouth, the silver glint in the normally black hair at his temples.

It had taken it's toll.

The guilt was almost overpowering.

"Probably the same as you," I whispered.

His grim expression told me he understood.

His eyes shifted suspiciously to Dean and Sam, lingering on Castiel with ill-concealed distaste.

I didn't know why that annoyed me.

"These are-"

"My friends," I finished quickly. "I know this is rude. I heard you were here, and I just couldn't miss the chance…."

Daniel Blake nodded quickly. "Of course, Odette. You're always welcome. Just…."

He looked at the people watching us edgily.

"Of course," I was quick to say. "We weren't planning to stay for very long, anyway."

"Are you-?"

"No." I said flatly.

Something like pity flashed in his eyes before he went away.

Before they could ask, I moved to the first painting I saw.

Sam looked at it curiously, when someone spoke from above.

"Fine example of American Primitive, wouldn't you say?"

I knew that voice.

We turned around, and I found myself staring face to face at Sarah Blake.

I was in turmoil, half joy, and half gut wrenching grief.

She hadn't seen me yet.

"Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses," Sam replied. "But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did."

"Guilty," she answered in the sheepish tone I'd heard so many times.

"And clumsy. I apologize."

I wasn't listening, as I studied Sarah intently.

Outwardly, Sarah looked no different, still the same pretty girl with the soft brown eyes I'd left a year ago.

But as I looked closer, I felt like curling onto the floor and sobbing.

The carefree, warm, happy light in her eyes was gone, replaced by a lost, hopeless stare.

Sarah Blake was lifeless.

And it was my entire fault.

She finally saw me.

"Odette?"

The next thing I knew, she had her arms wrapped around me, and I buried my face in her neck, pretending, just for one short second, that everything was all right.

We pulled apart.

"Hey, Sarah," I greeted her, sort of anticlimactically.

She opened her mouth, presumably to ask me the questions I knew I'd have to answer someday, but I shook my head imperceptibly.

She glanced at the other three, and thankfully let it drop.

"I'm Sarah Blake," she nodded politely at them.

Sam smiled. "I'm Sam. This is my brother…." The smile melted off his face as he saw Dean was still eating.

"Dean," he finished, glaring.

"This is Castiel," I added hastily when Sarah looked his way.

He continued to stuff himself from the passing trays.

"Dean," Sarah's lips twitched. "Can we get you some more mini-quiche?"

Dean kept chewing. "I'm good, thanks. So you guys know each other?"

Sarah nodded, latching onto my arm. "Odette's pretty much a sister."

After all this time.

The tears pooled in my eyes.

She addressed Sam. "So, can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, actually," Sam sighed in relief. "What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?"

She shuddered. "The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones."

"Is it possible to see the provenances?"

Daniel came up from behind. "I'm afraid not."

We took our cue and left.

~Supernatural~

We approached the hotel room.

"Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?" Dean sounded scandalized.

"Art history course," Sam shrugged. "It's good for meeting girls."

Dean unlocked the door. "It's like I don't even know you."

We entered the room, and froze, nonplussed.

The do not disturb door hanger was a silver outline of John Travolta.

The room was a completely over the top retro seventies disco fantasy room.

"Huh," we said together, dumping our bags on the bed.

Dean screwed up his face in confusion. "What was….providence?"

"Prov-e-nace," I said slowly. "It's a certificate of origin, like a biography. You know we can use them to check the history of the pieces, see if any of them have a freaky past."

"Geek," Dean snorted. "Well, we're not getting anything out of _'Uncle Danny'_, but Sarah…."

He snapped his fingers at Sam, smirking.

My lips turned down in disapproval.

Sam snickered. "Yeah, maybe you can get her to write all down on a cocktail napkin."

"Not me," Dean laughed.

"No, no, no," Sam looked slightly panicked. "Pick ups are your thing, Dean."

"It wasn't my butt she was checking out," I couldn't help but laugh at Dean's response.

Sarah had never been subtle.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Castiel leave.

"In other words," Sam crossed his arms. "You want me to use her to get information."

"Sometimes you gotta take one for the team," Dean tossed him his phone.

"Call her."

~Supernatural~

Dean sharpened his blade on a whetstone, beckoning to me to give him mine.

Sam and I were looking through some papers.

"So she just handed the providences over to you," Dean cocked an eyebrow.

"Provenances," Sam and I said at the same time.

"We went back to her place," My chest tightened at the mention. "I got a copy of the papers."

"And?" Dean waited expectantly.

"And nothing," Sam sighed. "That's it, I left."

"You didn't have to con her or do any….special favors or anything like that?"

Sam glowered at him. "Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?"

He laughed. "You know when this whole thing's done we could stick around for a little bit."

"Why?"

"So you could take her out again," My eyes widened. "Obviously you're into her, even I can see that."

"Hey, I think I've got something here," I suddenly found what I was looking for.

They came over and I handed over the papers.

"'Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910.'"

"Now compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal," Sam added.

Dean checked. "First purchased in 1912 by Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945, then 1970."

"Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. When the Telescas bought it. What do you think, it's haunted? Cursed?" I looked at them.

Dean got up. "Either way, it's toast."

~Supernatural~

Dean leapt, easily scaling the metre high metal gate, sprinting into the mist.

Sam hauled me up, following quickly.

Wearing gloves, he disarmed the security alarm.

"Go ahead," I told Dean.

He picked the lock, shining his flashlight inside, quickly searching for the painting.

Dean spotted it upstairs, expertly cutting the painting from the frame with his switchblade.

We brought it out onto the dirt road.

"Ugly ass thing," Dean eyed it with disgust. "If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor."

He dropped the match, and the painting ignited.

~Supernatural~

I had to say goodbye, at least.

I wanted to tell Sarah everything.

Everything that I'd done, the blood on my hands, the guilt, the grief.

Waking up every night muffling my scream into my pillow.

But I couldn't.

I was a coward, because she would hate me when I did.

Goodbye was the only thing I could give her.

I walked into the auction house, and stopped abruptly in my tracks.

Isaiah Merchant's portrait was staring me in the face.


	41. The Razor's Edge

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! :D **

**Clues ahoy!**

**Chapter name borrowed from AC/DC! (Oh, I love that band, I do!)**

**Lyrics are from Boyz II Men's 'It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday.'**

_I thought we'd get to see forever_

_ But forever's gone away_

_ It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday_

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE- THE RAZOR'S EDGE

"I don't understand, Dean, we burned the damn thing," Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated.

"Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious," Dean snapped. "All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?"

I ignored him as his eyes swept over Castiel and I.

I was falling apart at the seams.

I was here, again, after I'd promised myself I'd never come back.

I was staring my past in the face, and I couldn't deal.

I was burning in my grief.

In my guilt.

This was reminding me of each and every thing I'd lost.

But maybe that wasn't the correct word.

More like everything I'd ruined.

"Find out everything you can about the family," Castiel was saying, but his eyes were on me.

Sam kept shooting me worried looks.

He'd been doing it ever since his date with Sarah.

The guilt roiled up inside of me as I thought of her.

I would've been fine if I was the only one facing this.

But I'd dragged two more people down to suffer with me.

I sighed as Sam glanced at me again.

This had to stop.

"Sam," Had I been in a better frame of mind, I would probably have laughed as Sam jumped guiltily.

I forced out the words. "What did Sarah tell you, Sam?"

He blinked at me, shocked.

Dean had stopped the car, boring a hole into me with his gaze.

Castiel seemed almost expectant.

I waited.

Sam was slow in answering. "She just said her brother died a year ago."

I closed my eyes as white-hot pain flashed through me, trying to stem the way my mind was screaming _my fault, my fault, my fault_.

I opened them to see Castiel a good deal closer than he had been before.

He'd read my mind.

Sam seemed even more anxious than before as he searched my face.

"She said…." Sam's voice dropped. "You knew him."

Knew him.

Of course I knew him.

Dean, for once, didn't scold me as my fingers cut into the upholstery of the Impala.

"Anything else?"

I didn't recognize my own voice.

Castiel's presence was strangely calming as I fought for control.

"No."

I breathed out in relief.

"Sarah said if you hadn't told us it wasn't her place to say."

I raised my head to three intense gazes.

I looked away.

"Trust me. You don't want to know."

~Supernatural~

"You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?" The proprietor looked at us questioningly.

"Yeah, that's right," Sam nodded.

Dean approached, smiling and flicking through an old book with pictures of guns.

The proprietor put down a huge book of newspaper clippings on the table.

"I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So are you guys crime buffs?"

"Something like that," I answered.

"Why do you ask?" Dean added.

"Well…." He held up a newspaper article.

The proprietor pointed at a side article.

It read 'Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself'.

"Yes. Yeah," Dean reached for the article. "That sounds about right."

"The whole family was killed?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"It's seems this Isaiah, he slits his kid's throat, then his wife, then himself," The man answered.

"Now he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor."

"Why'd he do it?" I looked up at him.

"Isaiah had a harsh and stern temperament," he said. "Controlled his family with an iron fist. There were whispers that his wife was gonna take the kids and leave, which of course, you know in that day and age…" he waved a hand casually.

"So instead," the proprietor grinned. "Old man Isaiah, well he gave them all a shave."

The man drew a hand across his throat, laughing. Dean joined in, stopping only when Sam gave him a dirty look.

"Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Dean waited expectantly.

"It says they were all cremated."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," the proprietor nodded. "Actually, I found a picture of the family. Right here."

He showed us the same painting.

"Hey, can we get a copy of this please?"

"Sure."

~Supernatural~

We sat at the table.

"I'm telling you man, I'm sure of it." Sam's voice rose in pitch. "The painting at the auction house, Dad is looking down. Painting here, Dad's looking out. It's changed."

Dean crossed his arms. "All right, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like with his family?"

I winced at the imagery.

"Well, yeah, it seems like it," Sam bit his lip. "But if his bones are already dusted how are we gonna stop him?"

"Um," I spoke up nervously. "If Isaiah's position changed then maybe other things in the painting did too. It could give us a clue."

"What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?"

Dean gave Sam a totally blank look. "I don't…know. I'm still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see the painting."

He rose, moving across to the bed, throwing himself on his back and crossed his arms.

"Which is a good thing 'cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend."

I blinked, surprised.

"Dude. Enough already," Sam's reply was curt.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"What?" Sam repeated, annoyed. "Ever since we got here you've been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, alright?"

"Well, you like her, don't you?" Dean cocked an eyebrow.

Sam raised his arms to the ceiling.

"Alright," Dean forged ahead. "You like her, she likes you, you're consenting adults…." He trailed off suggestively.

Sam was frustrated. "What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave, we always leave."

"I'm not talking about marriage, Sam," Dean added quietly.

"I don't get it," Sam answered agitatedly. "Why do you care if I hook up?"

By contrast, Dean was calm. "'Cause maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time."

Sam stared at him, then huffed out a breath and looked away.

Dean sat up on his bed. "You know, seriously, Sam, this isn't just about hooking up, okay? I mean, I think this Sarah girl could be good for you."

Sam sighed, rubbing his head.

We watched closely.

Dean's tone was unusually soft. "And…I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right?"

I looked harder at Sam.

"Now, I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that….. but I would think she would want you to be happy."

Happy.

He would've wanted me to be happy as well.

But how could I be?

Without him, how could I have any peace?

The tears in my own eyes matched Sam's.

Sam was listening, now.

"Yeah, I know she would," Sam answered slowly.

He gave a half smile, then sighed heavily.

"Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part."

"What's it about?" Dean propped himself up.

Sam refused to answer.

"Yeah, all right," Dean lay back down. "We still gotta see the painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so….."

Sam picked up his phone, clearing his throat.

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, settling in.

"Hey, Sarah," Sam's tone was stiff and awkward. "It's Sam. Good. Good, yeah. What about you?"

Dean opened an eye slightly, watching his brother.

I smiled fondly at them.

Sam repeated himself nervously. "Yeah good, really good."

"Smooth," Dean whispered across the room.

I jerked in surprise as Sam held out the phone to me.

"She wants to talk to you," he mouthed.

I took the phone warily.

What was left to say?

"Hey, Sarah."

I paused.

"Yes, I know. I should have. I'm sorry."

For everything.

"I miss you too."

She would never know how much.

"Yeah, I will. Promise."

"What?" I vaulted off the chair.

At my tone, Dean and Sam snapped to attention.

I stood up.

"Who'd you sell it to?

The phone clattered to the floor as I heard her answer.

Sam was at my side in an instant, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Odette?"

My face was deathly pale.

"_Odette_."

Dean crossed the room to me, shaking me roughly.

"Kid. Snap out of it. What's going on?"

I summoned up the courage to speak.

"The painting's been sold. It's at…." I gulped.

"Where is it, Odette?"

Sam's tone was gentle.

"It's at my house."

~Supernatural~

The Impala roared up and we jumped out.

Sarah appeared from the car waiting in the driveway.

This could not be happening.

Whatever had taken place, he was still my family.

Sarah took my arm.

"Sam, what's happening?"

We ran past her.

Dean's eyes grew to the size of saucers as he saw the size of my home.

I joined Dean and ran up to the front porch.

Dean started banging on the door.

I pushed his hand aside.

"I know the combination," I said quietly.

I had the door unlocked in a minute.

22/04/65.

The day my mother was born.

Sarah caught up to us.

"You said Matthew," she squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. "Was in trouble."

"You shouldn't have come," Sam said.

We dashed in.

I knew Sarah was here purely for my sake.

I hung on to her.

"Matt?" She called.

"Matthew!" Dean yelled.

There was no response.

We entered the lounge, and I trembled.

Sam glanced at me worriedly.

I recognized the woman sitting half turned away from us.

The painting had changed.

Isaiah now looked at his daughter.

"Aunt Evie?" I moved forward cautiously.

I reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Odette, don't!" Sam's voice was urgent.

But it was too late.

Evelyn's head tipped back, exposing her slashed throat.

I was horrified, and I hated myself for the smothered feeling of relief that coursed through me.

At least it wasn't him.

He was safe.

I had to be shepherded out of the room by Dean.

~Supernatural~

Dean and Sam sat with the laptop while I paced.

There was a knock on the door.

I opened it, and Sarah stormed past me.

"Hey," Sam greeted her. "You all right?"

She was fuming.

"No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I found Evelyn like that alone."

Dean smirked as Sam and I breathed out in relief.

"Thank you," Sam smiled at her.

"Don't thank me," Sarah snapped. "I'm about to call them right back and tell them what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?"

We looked at Dean, who raised his eyebrows.

"What." Sam stated quietly.

"What?" Sarah repeated.

"It's not 'who', Sarah," I added. "It's 'what' is killing these people."

She looked at us as if we were insane.

Sam sighed wearily. "Sarah, you saw that painting move."

She was agitated. "No….no. I was… I was seeing things. It's impossible."

"Yeah, well, welcome to our world," Dean sniped.

"I know this sounds crazy, Sarah," I reached for her hand. "But we think the painting is haunted."

Sarah sniggered, but her eyes were wet.

"You're joking."

She looked at us one by one.

We just stared at her.

"You're not joking." She laughed shakily. "God, the guys I choose to go out with."

"Sarah, think about it," Sam's voice was persuasive. "Evelyn was in the house with the painting, the Telesca's bought it. There have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die. We're just trying to stop it. That's the truth."

She took a deep breath.

"Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you."

"What? No." My voice was flat. "Go home, Sarah. You'll get hurt."

She shook her head. "Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Then me and my Dad sold this painting that got these people killed. I'm scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide, either.

She strode to the door.

Sarah turned back. "So are we going or what?"

She walked out, dragging me with her.

Over my shoulder, I heard Dean say: "Sam? Marry that girl."

~Supernatural~

Isaiah Merchant's body wasn't in the mausoleum.

Dean was inside searching county death certificates trying to find out what happened to his body.

We sat on a small wall, waiting.

Dean soon appeared, opening his mouth to speak, when Sarah pulled me aside.

"Hey! Where are you guys going?" Dean demanded.

"Family business," Sarah called over her shoulder, pushing me along.

We stared at each other.

"So." She spoke softly. "How are you holding up?"

I smiled bitterly.

"I should be asking you that question."

"That's not an answer, Odette." Sarah looked at me searchingly.

The hole in my chest throbbed viciously.

What could I say?

I'd thought he would always be there, the one solid fixture in my life.

He'd promised me forever.

But forever had been ripped away.

I would never be able to let him go.

Every part of me ached to tell Sarah.

But I couldn't.

Because I was weak.

I raised my eyes to hers, then.

I could give her this much.

"You want the truth, Sarah?"

She waited.

"I'm not holding up anything. There's nothing left. I'm a mess."

I clutched my side as the pain grew.

"It's killing me, and it's never going to get any better. He's gone, Sarah, and he's taken me with him."

The tears spilled over onto Sarah's cheek.

"What did you expect?" I stared at her hollowly.

"Hell, you were the one who carted me to the emergency room in the first place. You know exactly how I was dealing."

She sniffed, eyes lifeless.

I looked her in the eyes.

"I asked you then whether I had anything to live for, Sarah. You couldn't give me an answer."

Sarah started sobbing, and I put my arm around her as my own tears fell.

"Can you give me one now?"

~Supernatural~

I balked as I realized exactly which graveyard I was standing in front of.

"Come on, lets get to work," Dean walked inside and Sam followed.

They paused, as I did not move.

"Kid?" Dean was irritated, I could tell.

"You go on ahead," my voice was barely more than a whisper. "I'll stay here."

Dean huffed. "You're not turning squeamish on us now, are you?"

"No, you don't understand." I gripped the fence tightly. "I _can't_ go inside.

A sharp lance of pain spiked through me.

"There are…." The words stuck in my suddenly dry throat.

"There are people I know here."

They sucked in a shocked breath.

I jumped as Castiel reappeared.

"Go. I'll stay with her."

Sam and Dean looked at me once, and walked away.

I turned to Castiel, eyes shamed and guilty.

"You're going to have to let go eventually, Odette."

"I don't think I can, Castiel."

We stood in silence for a few minutes.

I was desperate.

"Where are they, now, Castiel?"

"In heaven."

I searched his face. "You're not lying to me, are you? Promise me you're telling the truth."

He pinned me with his gaze.

"I promise."

"Thank you, Castiel."

He vanished as Sam and Dean returned.

Dean coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, kid."

"Don't be," I smiled tremulously.

Sam put an arm around my shoulder, and I wrapped mine around his waist.

We walked back to the car.

~Supernatural~

We stopped in front of the auction house.

"I thought the painting was harmless now?" Sarah asked.

"Better to be safe than sorry," Sam replied.

Sarah got out of the car.

"I'm coming with you."

"You sure?"

Dean called Sam back.

"Hey! Hey, hey. The kid and I will stay here, you go make your move."

My lips curved upward.

Sam sniggered and got out of the Impala.

As Sarah and Sam moved up the stairs, Dean turned on the radio.

I couldn't control my laugh as I recognized the ballad playing.

Sam glared at Dean, who sighed and turned it off.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut on Sam and Sarah.

~Supernatural~

We ran up the stairs, shoving at the door.

"Dean!" I heard Sam yell. "That you?"

"Sammy, you alright?"

Dean's cell phone rang.

"Tell me you slammed the front door."

"No, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl."

"Girl?" Dean's eyebrows shot up. "What girl?"

"I think she's out of the painting," Sam answered. "I think it's been her all along."

"Wasn't the dad looking down on her? Maybe he was trying to warn us."

"Hey, let's recap later, all right? Get us out of here." Sam's tone was edgy.

"Well, I'm trying to pick the lock, the door won't budge." Dean's voice held a bite to it,

"Well, knock it down!"

"Okay, genius, let me just grab my battering ram."

"Dean, the damn thing is coming!" Sam shouted.

Worry for Sam and Sarah swamped me.

"Well, you're just gonna have to hold it off until I figure something out. Get some salt or iron."

Dean grunted, looking for an entrance.

There were none.

Sam suddenly spoke up.

"I know to waste her, Dean."

"How?"

"Dean, the doll at the grave. Sarah thinks it was made with the kid's hair."

"Human remains," Dean huffed.

The mausoleum.

~Supernatural~

We raced inside the graveyard, and I ignored the insistent voice that told me to run away.

We entered the mausoleum, and Dean hit the glass container with the doll in it with the butt of his gun.

It did not break.

He turned to run back to the car, gun in hand, but stopped.

Dean shot the glass, lifting an arm to protect his face.

It splintered everywhere.

He grabbed the doll, reaching for his lighter.

It refused to light.

Dean grimaced.

"Come on, come on!"

His lighter finally caught, and he held it under the doll's hair.

It began to smoke, then burn.

We stared at the burnt doll on the floor of the mausoleum.

Dean pulled out his phone.

"Sam, you good?"

Sam's voice was breathless.

"Not bad."

~Supernatural~

We stood in front of Sarah.

"So, I guess this means you're leaving," Sarah looked at us.

"Yeah."

I would miss her.

She surprised me; pulling out the photo album I'd spent so much time making.

"Here, I got this for you. I figured you'd want it."

I stroked the pretty cover for a second, tears pooling in my eyes.

Sarah squeaked in surprise as I hugged her tightly.

"Thank you."

She shrugged casually.

"Don't thank me, this is yours."

As I reached for it, she grabbed my hand, staring at the thin band on my wrist.

The beads were broken and discolored, but to me, it was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever worn.

"All this time?" Sarah's lips trembled.

"Always."

She paused, fighting for composure.

Sarah reached into her pocket, bringing out a glittering bracelet.

I looked at her in confusion.

She smiled sadly.

"This is for you. He meant to give it to you before he….."

Her breath hitched, and my own tears prevented me from seeing clearly.

I held on to her tightly, slipping it on.

"Bye, Sarah," I stumbled my way to the Impala.

Something like a smile crossed my face as Sam kissed her goodbye, and Dean let out a proud: "That's my boy."

I looked around me, at the place I loved.

The ache to stay here would never go away, but in the course of a single year, something had changed.

Home meant something different to me now.

Home was a dusty black car, two bickering brothers and an angel who didn't know the meaning of personal space.

So when Dean called out to me, I already knew my answer.

"Kid? You coming?"

For the first time in months, I grinned.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

~Supernatural~

My dreams, however, still remained the same.

I didn't think they would ever go way.

_We watched the sunset together, the sky a soft pinkish-gold, clouds cottony white and dotted over the orange-streaked sky._

_I put my head on my knees, inching closer to him._

"_Hey."_

_I tugged on his arm._

_He looked at me questioningly._

"_Why do people love each other when they know they're gonna get hurt, huh?"_

_He looked at me seriously, wrapping an arm around my shoulders._

_I clung closer to him._

_His face was pensive as he answered me._

"_Well, I don't know, Odette," he smiled lopsidedly, the smile I loved to see him wear. _

"_I guess because it's great while it lasts_."

I woke up with a jerk, head buried in Sam's chest.

I was sleeping in his lap again.

The pain shot through me aggressively, and I stiffened, wishing I could forget this.

"_I guess because it's great while it lasts, Odette_."

Against Sam's shirt, where he wouldn't see, the tears began to fall.

_Jared_. 

**And we have a name, folks!**


	42. Nosferatu

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! :) Well, stick around till next season if you wanna find out!**

**ccgnme- Thanks! Coming right up!**

**acid-veins- Thank you! :D LOL, yeah, I guess so. **_**This**_** Jared is very different, though! (He's a good deal shorter.)**

**Chapter name borrowed from Blue Oyster Cult.**

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO- NOSFERATU

Dean flipped through a newspaper, eying Castiel warily.

Sam was on his laptop.

Dean folded the paper.

"Well, dude. Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What have you got?"

Sam peered at the screen. "Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota. Here. A woman in Iowa fell 10,000 feet from an airplane and survived."

"That is not what you seek," Castiel looked at us impassively.

We blinked at him for a second before Sam nodded.

Dean smirked. "Hey, you know we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah, again, huh?"

My muscles locked down as if for impact.

This was too soon; my memories were slipping through the cracks as it was.

I couldn't go back again.

Sam caught my expression.

"Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday. In the meantime we got a lot of work to do, Dean, you know that."

I breathed out in relief, smiling at Sam gratefully.

"Yeah, all right," Dean agreed easily enough. "What else you got?"

"Ahh," Sam glanced at his laptop again. "A man in Colorado named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home."

"Elkins?" Dean looked up. "I know that name."

"Doesn't ring a bell," Sam looked at Dean curiously.

"Elkins…." Dean muttered under his breath.

"Sounds like the police don't know what to think," Sam continued. "At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now they've found some signs of robbery."

"Mm-hmm," Dean started flicking through John's journal. "There," he stabbed a finger on a page.

"Check it out."

We leaned closer.

He handed the journal to Sam.

"D Elkins 970-555-0158."

"You think it's the same Elkins?" Sam's eyebrow rose.

"It's a Colorado area code."

~Supernatural~

Sam picked the lock with ease, sliding in with us behind him.

I gripped the flashlight, staring at the mess.

"Looks like the maid didn't come today," Dean gave a cursory look at the room.

"Hey, there's salt over here," I pointed at the door.

Dean thumbed through Elkins' journal. "You mean 'protection against demon' salt, or 'whoops I spilled the popcorn' salt?"

I stifled my laughter.

Sam looked closer. "It's clearly a ring. Do you think this guy Elkins was a player?"

"Definitely," Dean pointed to the journal.

"That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's," Sam came up behind Dean.

"Yep," Dean nodded. "Except this dates back to the '60's."

We moved into the other room, shining our flashlights around the destruction.

I moved it up to the hole in the roof.

"Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one," Sam pursed his mouth thoughtfully.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too."

"Yeah," I agreed.

We looked around the room.

Dean crouched down to the floor.

"You got something?"

"I dunno," Dean shrugged. "Some scratches on the floor."

"Death throes, maybe?" Sam guessed.

"Yeah, maybe." He grabbed a page from a notebook, placing it over the marks, rubbing a pencil on it.

"Or maybe a message," Dean squinted at the page.

He handed the paper to Sam. "Look familiar?"

"Three letters, six digits," Sam chewed his lip. "The location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop."

"Just the way Dad does it."

~Supernatural~

Dean opened the post office box, staring at the letter.

We looked at it in silence in the Impala.

"'J.W.' You think? John Winchester?" Sam glanced at Dean.

"I don't know," Dean grasped it uneasily. "Should we open it?"

Somebody knocked on Dean's window.

He reared back automatically, raising his arm.

We were staring at John Winchester.

Dean blinked in shock, then smiled.

"Dad?"

John got in the backseat, nodding at me briefly.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Sam demanded. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," John settled in. "I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. Saw you three at his place."

"Why didn't you come in, Dad?" Sam asked softly.

"You know why," He sighed. "Because I had to make sure you weren't followed, by anyone or anything. Nice job covering your tracks, by the way."

Dean grinned proudly. "Yeah, well, we learned from the best."

"Wait," Sam frowned. "You came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?"

"Yeah." John nodded. "He was… he was a good man. Taught me a hell of a lot about hunting."

"Well, you never mentioned him to us," Sam crossed his arms.

"We had a….." He paused. "We had a kind of falling out. I hadn't seen him in years."

He gestured to the envelope. "I should look at that."

John read it in silence, until he exclaimed angrily.

"That son of a bitch."

"What is it?" Dean shifted to look at him.

"He had it the whole time," John cursed.

"Dad, what?" Sam turned around.

"When you searched the place, did you see a gun? Old revolver, an antique, did you see it?"

"Um," I spoke up nervously. "There was an old case, but it was empty."

John stared at me for a second. "They have it."

"You mean whatever killed Elkins?" Dean twisted around.

John got out of the car. "We gotta pick up the trail."

"Wait," Sam was surprised. "You want us to come with you?"

"If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun," John grimaced.

"The gun, why?" Sam's eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

"Because it's important, that's why," John answered shortly.

"Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet!" Sam's frustration was poorly concealed.

"They were what Daniel Elkins killed best- vampires."

My mouth popped open.

Dean was a little less taken aback. "Vampires? I thought there was no such thing."

"You never even mentioned them, Dad," Sam added.

"I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and the others had wiped them out."

John was grim. "I was wrong."

~Supernatural~

"Most vampire lore is crap," John explained. "A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late."

~Supernatural~

A firm hand shook me awake.

"Odette. Wake up."

I recognized the rough baritone as John's, and was up in a second.

Dean and Sam were already awake.

"I picked up a police call," John shrugged into his jacket.

"What happened?" Sam rubbed his eyes.

"A couple called 911, found a body in the street. By the time the cops got there, everyone was missing. It's the vampires."

Sam rose from the bed. "How do you know?"

"Just follow me, okay?" John left the room.

Dean was still half-asleep.

"Huh, vampires. Gets funnier every time I hear it."

~Supernatural~

Sam was sulky.

"I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me it's already starting."

"What's starting?"

John finished talking to the cop.

"What have you got?" Dean fidgeted impatiently.

"It was them all right," John clenched his fists. "Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour."

Sam crossed his arms. "How can you be so sure?"

"Sam….." Dean's tone was resigned.

"I just wanna know we're going in the right direction," Sam snapped.

"We are," John's voice was dangerously quiet.

"How do you know?"

He handed something to Dean. "I found this."

I peered closer at it.

Dean huffed. "It's a…. a vampire fang."

"Not fangs, teeth," John corrected. "The second set descends when they attack."

He turned to Sam. "Any more questions?"

Sam looked away in silence.

"Alright, let's get out of here, we're losing daylight."

We headed for the Impala.

"Hey, Dean," John called over his shoulder. "Why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it."

Dean looked down at the Impala.

Sam shot him an 'I told you so' look.

Dean grimaced.

~Supernatural~

Sam drove, following John's truck.

Dean read aloud. "'Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks.'"

I shuddered.

"I wonder if that's what happened to that 911 couple," Dean mused.

Sam's reply was decidedly grumpy. "That's probably what Dad's thinking. 'Course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks."

Dean snorted. "So it is starting."

"What?" Sam was irritable.

"Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year," Dean sighed. "Now we're not with him for more than a coupla hours and there's static already?"

Sam huffed. "No. Look, I'm happy he's okay, alright? And I'm happy we're all working together again."

"Well, good." Dean was unconvinced.

Sam was unable to help himself. "It's just the way he treats us, like we're children."

"Oh, God," Dean pushed against the seat, frustrated.

"He barks orders at us, Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need to know deal."

I felt decidedly uncomfortable.

This was private, and I was intruding.

Family business, as Sarah would say.

I tried to ignore the conversation.

"He does what he does for a reason," Dean's voice was strained.

"What reason?" Sam demanded.

"Our job!" Dean threw his hands in the air. "There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things."

"Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, alright? Not after everything we've been through. I mean, are you cool with just falling into line, letting him run the whole show?"

Dean gave Sam a long look.

"If that's what it takes."

~Supernatural~

Sam drove furiously.

Dean was on the phone. "Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it."

He hung up. "Pull off at the next exit."

"Why?" Sam asked angrily.

"'Cause Dad thinks we've got the vampire's trail."

"How?" Sam's tone was heated.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "He didn't say."

Sam gunned the engine.

Dean looked at him as if he'd gone insane.

I had a bad feeling about this.

I turned to look at John's truck as Sam overtook it.

Once he was in front, he slammed the brakes.

The Impala swerved to the side, bringing John's truck to a halt.

Sam stormed out of the car to meet an equally angry John.

"Oh crap," Dean followed, pulling me along. "Here we go. Sam!"

"What the hell was that?" John's voice was ominously calm.

I twitched uneasily.

"We need to talk."

John came face-to-face with Sam.

"About what?"

"About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this job?"

"Sammy, come on," Dean shifted. "We can Q and A after we kill all the vampires."

"Your brother's right," John doubled up his fists. "We don't have time for this."

"Sam, _c'mon_," I tugged on his arm.

He shook me off.

"Last time you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue you need our help."

Sam started yelling. "Obviously something big is going down and we wanna know what!"

John's face set into a grim line. "Get back in the car."

Sam's tone was stony. "No."

"I said get back in the damn car."

"Yeah," Sam raised his chin. "And I said no."

Dean hovered between them. "Okay, you made your point, tough guy. Look, we're all tired, the kid needs her sleep. We can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on."

Dean grabbed Sam and propelled him towards the car.

"This is why I left in the first place," Sam mumbled.

"What did you say?" John's voice was eerily level.

Sam swung back. "You heard me."

"Yeah." John flexed his jaw. "You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away."

"Sam…." Dean sounded resigned.

John shouted in Sam's face. "You walked away!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Dean yelled.

They ignored him.

"You're the one who said don't come back, Dad, you closed that door, not me! You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!"

Dean forced them apart.

"Listen, stop it, stop it. Stop it! That's enough!"

Sam and John glared at each other over Dean's head.

Dean looked at John. "That means you, too."

I caught hold of Sam and pushed him inside the Impala.

Dean stood in the middle, alone.

He looked from one side to the other.

I heard his exasperated growl.

"Terrific."


	43. Vampire Blues

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! :D**

**ccgnme- Uh-huh, yeah, I felt so bad for him! **

**acid-veins- Haha, yeah, my Jared has no moose-like qualities. LOL, yeah, I bet you would, but Odette's kinda shy. If it had been me, I woulda been all: "Okay, this is private and awkward…" and hightailed it outta there. **

**Garideth- Aw, thank you! Out of all my chapters, I think I liked writing The Razor's Edge the most!**

**Yeah, chapter name borrowed from Neil Young. *winces***

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE- VAMPIRE BLUES

We watched as the tall, rangy vampire retreated inside the building.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed. "So they're really not afraid of the sun?"

"Direct sunlight hurts them like a nasty sunburn," John frowned. "The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day, doesn't mean they won't wake up."

Dean huffed. "I guess walking right in's not our best option."

"Actually, that's the plan."

~Supernatural~

Sam was pulling out machetes from the Impala's trunk.

I jerked my head up as I heard my name mentioned.

"Dean, what's with the girl? You can't just string her along with you, sooner or later, she's gonna get hurt."

"Dad-"

"Or worse, _you're_ gonna get hurt trying to protect her."

Shame made my cheeks turn a dark scarlet.

Nothing John said was a lie.

I was surprised, Dean did not respond the way I'd expected him to.

"C'mon, Dad, she's not so bad. Odette's a sweet kid. You should see Sam, it's like he's found a new kid sister or something. He mother hens all over the place."

John snorted.

I ducked out of view as they approached.

Sam was still a little mulish.

"So, you boys really wanna know about this Colt?"

Sam set his jaw. "Yes, sir."

He shrugged. "It's just a story, legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter."

"Back in 1835, when Haley's Comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us, only on horseback. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun half a dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow, Daniel got his hands on it."

John's eyes unfocused. "They say… they say this gun can kill anything."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Kill anything like, supernatural anything?"

"Like the demon," Sam's tone was quiet.

"Yeah, like the demon," John nodded. "Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun, we may have it."

~Supernatural~

The barn window swung inwards, and we crept in.

We surveyed the room.

It was full of sleeping vampires.

Dean, Sam and I made our way through the barn.

As Dean passed a hammock, he kicked an empty bottle.

It clinked, but the vampire did not wake.

I shivered as I found the 911 girl, covered in her own blood and tied to a pole.

"Dean! Sam!" I hissed.

I began to untie her, but stopped as we heard a noise.

Dean looked behind us. "There's more."

He made his way to a locked metal grid; even more people were tied up, sleeping or unconscious.

Dean broke the lock, and Sam looked up sharply at the noise.

There was no movement in the hammocks.

The girl began to stir.

"Hey," Sam whispered reassuringly. "Hey, hey, I'm here to help you."

The girl let out an unearthly wail.

We reared back.

The vampires were awake.

We ran, calling for John.

I was painfully aware of the vampires an inch away from us.

We burst out the barn, and I nearly screamed as I felt a hand grabbing at my hair, Dean caught the front of my jacket just in time, dragging me away.

We fled up the slope to the cars before turning around.

"Dad?"

"Dad!"

There was a long pause.

John finally ran up the slope.

We turned to leave as soon as we saw him.

"They won't follow," John's lips had whitened. "Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life."

Dean was breathing hard. "Well, what the hell do we do now?"

John was grim.

"You find the nearest funeral home, that's what."

~Supernatural~

I bit my nails nervously.

I was worried.

Dean shouldn't be taking this long.

I sighed in relief as I heard Dean enter the adjoining room.

I moved out of mine.

"Whew," Dean whistled. "Man, some heavy duty security to protect a bunch of dead guys."

"Get it?"

Dean fumbled in his pocket, withdrawing a paper bag and a bottle of something red.

I tried not to think about what it was.

John looked at Dean.

"You know what to do."

~Supernatural~

I stayed hidden in the shadows, aware of Sam's cautioning hand on my shoulder.

John shot me a quizzical look.

Dean leaned over the open bonnet of the Impala, looking at the engine.

"Car trouble?"

The vampire's voice was far too close for comfort.

Dean turned to look at her.

"Let me give you a lift," She smiled widely. "Take you back to my place."

Dean grinned cockily. "Nah, I'll pass. I usually draw the line at necrophilia."

"Oooh," She backhanded him, grabbing his face to lift him in the air.

Dean grasped her wrist. "I don't usually get this friendly until the second date, but…"

"You know we could have some fun," She smiled menacingly. "I always like to make new friends."

She lowered Dean to her level, still holding his cheeks tightly.

The other vampire watched, smiling.

"Sorry," Dean smirked. "I don't usually stay with a chick that long. Definitely not eternity."

An arrow pierced the other vampire, a second later, the same happened to the one holding Dean.

She looked down at the point sticking out of her chest. "Damn it."

We emerged from the trees.

John and Sam were carrying crossbows.

She snickered. "It barely even stings."

John laughed. "Give it time, sweetheart. That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood. It's like poison to you, isn't it?"

Shock crossed her features before she tumbled to the ground, unconscious.

~Supernatural~

Sam patrolled the area with a machete.

"Toss this on the fire," John instructed. "Saffron, skunk's cabbage and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers, until we're ready."

Dean sniffed it and coughed. "Stuff stinks!"

"That's the idea," John grunted. "Dust your clothes with the ashes and you stand a chance of not being detected."

Sam fidgeted. "You sure they'll come after her?"

"Yeah." John nodded. "Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun. But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time."

"A half hour oughta do it," Sam clenched his machete tightly.

"And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can," John said with authority.

"But…"

"Dad, you can't take care of them all," Dean said levelly.

"I'll have her," John jerked his head at the unconscious vampire. "And the Colt."

"But after," Sam gave him a long, searching look. "We're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together. Right?"

There was silence.

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" Sam glared at him. "You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this."

"Like what?"

"Like children!" Sam exploded.

"You _are_ my children," John shifted, restless. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Dad?" Dean was serious. "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap."

All three of us looked at Dean, shocked.

"Excuse me?" John was incredulous.

"You know what we've been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

"It's not the same thing, Dean," John sounded weary.

"Then what is it?" Dean demanded. "Why do you want us out of the big fight?"

John moved away. "This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive."

"You mean you can't be as reckless," Dean stated.

"Look….." John pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death, it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die, too."

I stared at John, the hole in my chest throbbing painfully.

Was this what I was going to become?

"What happens if you die?" Dean challenged. "Dad, what happens if you die and we coulda done something about it?"

Dean paused. "You know, I've been thinking. I… maybe Sam is right. We should do this together."

Sam nodded.

"We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it."

~Supernatural~

Luther backhanded John against the open car door, shattering the car door until he fell unconscious.

I moved forward to help, but Dean pulled me back.

"Wait," He watched the vampires.

Luther moved forward.

An arrow pierced one of the vampires, and we ran out of the trees.

Dean paused to line up and shoot another vampire with his crossbow.

Sam turned to Luther, who backhanded him.

Dean grabbed a machete, but Luther had his arm around Sam's throat.

"Don't! I'll break his neck," Luther threatened. "Put the blade down."

Dean was motionless, and Luther tightened his hold on Sam's neck, cutting off his air supply completely.

Dean dropped the machete.

"You people," he sneered. "Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do."

"I don't think so," John shot Luther between the eyes.

He let go of Sam, falling to his knees with a choked gurgle.

I didn't need his mate's wail of anguish before she was pulled away to know Luther was dead.


	44. Six String Hymns

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**TH3angelinH3LL- Thank you! :) That's funny; I got a few flames saying exactly the opposite! **

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Aw, thank you!**

**Garideth- Thanks! Yeah, that's just the way he is!**

**ccgnme- Yeah, I figured Dean could thaw out just a little bit! :)**

**acid-veins- Thank you! :D**

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR- SIX STRING HYMNS

"Jim Murphy's dead," John cursed heatedly, pulling the truck around.

"Pastor Jim?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Throat was slashed," John was grim. "He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at his place."

"A demon," Dean waited a beat for John's nod.

"_The_ demon?"

"I don't know," John replied tersely. "Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close."

Somehow, I didn't think that was what had happened.

"What do we do?" I asked.

John slammed the car door. "Now we act like every second counts. There are two hospitals and a health care centre in Salvation. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week."

His tone left no room for argument.

I shuddered as I remembered John's explanation of the demon.

"Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?" Sam brushed his hair away from his face impatiently.

"We check 'em all, that's how," He answered curtly. "You got any better ideas?"

"No sir," Sam was still sulking.

We turned back to our cars.

~Supernatural~

I sighed as I copied the birth certificate information into my notebook.

The list was daunting.

The sheer number of children was overwhelming.

I slowly walked out of the medical centre, flipping through my notebook.

The white-hot pain shot through my skull, and I clutched my head tightly.

My vision was disjointed, indistinct, and I found myself calling for Castiel in my panic.

_Demon._

_Translucent yellow eyes, the sharp silhouette of something in the nursery…_

_A woman's long dark hair, a head turns to a wide window._

_A train's long-drawn whistle._

_The demon._

My eyes flashed open with a gasp, and I gripped a railing for support.

I pulled out my map.

~Supernatural~

I stood in the park, checking my map again.

I looked up.

The house from my vision was right in front of me.

I started as the woman I'd seen pushed a pram along the road, holding an umbrella with some difficulty.

Deciding fast, I moved over, pulling out the umbrella.

"Hi. Here, let me hold that for you," I smiled. "You look like you don't need that anymore."

"Oh." The woman looked surprised. "Thanks."

I peered inside at the blanketed baby. She stared at me with intelligent hazel eyes.

"She's gorgeous," I meant it. "Is she yours?"

"Yeah."

I tentatively stroked the baby's satin-smooth cheek. "Oh, wow, hi!"

I glanced at the woman again, putting out my hand. "Oh, sorry, I'm rude. I'm Odette. I just moved in with my parents up the block."

She smiled pleasantly. "Hi. I'm Monica. This is Rosie."

I bent down to look at her properly. "Hi, Rosie!"

Monica looked at me indulgently.

"So, welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thanks," I nodded at her. "She's such a good baby!"

Monica grinned, pleased. "I know! She never cries, just stares at everybody. Sometimes I feel like she's….. reading my mind."

That didn't bode well.

"What about you, Monica?" I fought to keep my tone light. "Have you lived here long?"

She cooed at Rosie fondly. "My husband and I, we bought our place just before Rosie was born."

I held my breath. "And how old is she?"

"Six months today," Monica beamed. "She's big, right? Growing like a weed."

My stomach plummeted.

"Yeah," I was distracted. "Monica….."

She looked at me expectantly. "Yeah?"

"Just, ahhh," I paused. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

She smiled brightly. "Yeah, you too, Odette. We'll see you around."

I watched as a rusty station wagon pulled onto the drive, and Monica twirled her baby around in her arms.

_The clock stops with a creak, the nursery rhyme that is playing freezes._

_An icy wind pulls open the window. _

_The long black shadow looms over the baby's bed._

_Monica pushes open the door._

"_What are you…"_

_Like a puppet on a string, she is pulled back to the wall, and slides up it onto the ceiling._

_The blood is bright and unnaturally red._

"_Rosie!"_

~Supernatural~

"A vision," John's tone was flat. "_Both_ of you get visions."

My response was slow in coming, painful even.

"Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"And you think this is really going to happen?" John folded his arms, clearly skeptical.

If Castiel were here to explain, I was sure things would have been different.

"Dad," Sam's voice was subdued. "It happens. Everything we see, it comes true."

Dean rose and crossed to the counter behind me for more coffee.

"All right," John kicked the chair leg. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

We stopped and turned to look at John.

"We didn't know what it meant," Dean's tone was forcedly calm.

"Something like this happens to your brother, you pick up the phone and call me," John punched the grainy surface of the table.

Dean dumped the coffee jug back on the counter and strode toward his father.

"Call you?" Dean's voice was filled with disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence, all right? Sam called you when I was _dying_."

He threw his hands in the air.

"I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

The silence was tense.

"You're right," John offered unexpectedly. "Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

Something like respect for John rose up inside me.

Sam kneaded his forehead.

"Look guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through."

"No, they're not," John's eyes flashed. "No one is, ever again."

Sam's phone rang.

"Hello?"

I could hear an indistinct female voice on the other end of the line.

"Sam?"

"Who is this?" He asked sharply.

"Think hard, it will come to you."

I could have recognized the casual cruelty in that tone anywhere.

I knew before Sam spoke it out loud.

"Meg."

Dean and John started, turning to Sam.

Sam nodded, unsurprised.

"Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Meg's voice was deceptively light. "That really hurt my feelings, by the way."

"Just your feelings?" Sam's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "That was a seven-storey drop."

Meg ignored him.

"Lemme speak to your dad."

Sam looked at John.

"My dad? I don't know where my dad is."

I could hear her laugh.

"It's time for the grown ups to talk, Sam, let me speak to him now."

Sam hesitated, handing over the phone to John.

He grasped it quickly.

"This is John."

"Howdy, John," Meg gushed. "I'm Meg, a friend of your boys and the little kid they picked up. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood….."

She didn't need to finish.

"I'm here," John's voice betrayed not a hint of emotion.

"Well, that was yesterday," Meg chirped. "Today, I'm in Lincoln, visiting another old friend of yours. He wants to say hi….."

"John, whatever you do, don't give…" The raspy voice was cut off abruptly.

"Caleb?"

Dean and Sam reacted to the name instantly, going on alert.

"You listen to me," John spoke through gritted teeth. "He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go."

"We know you have the Colt, John."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, okay," Meg said cheerfully. "Well, listen to this."

There was a choked gurgle and a wet squelch, and my face paled.

Everyone knew exactly what that meant.

"Caleb. Caleb!"

John received no response.

"You hear that, John?" Meg lost her chipper tone.

"That's the sound of your friend dying. Now let's try this again. We know you have the gun, John, word travels fast. So as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties."

John crushed the mobile in his fingers. "I'm gonna kill you, you know that?"

Meg snickered. "Oh, John, please, mind your blood pressure. So this is the thing. We're going to keep doing what we're doing. Your friends, anyone who helped you, anyone you've ever loved. They're all gonna die unless you give us that gun."

John was quiet, weighing Meg's ultimatum.

"I'm waiting, Johnny, better answer before the buzzer."

"Okay," John forced the words out.

"Sorry?" Meg sniggered. "I didn't quite get that."

"I said okay," John clenched his teeth. "I'll bring you the Colt."

"There's a warehouse in Lincoln, on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there."

"It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there."

"Meet me there at midnight tonight."

"That's impossible," John flexed his jaw. "I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane."

Meg's tone turned light and airy.

"Well, I guess your friends die then, don't they?"


	45. May This Journey

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! Yeah, I thought that Odette gets visions too, so I decided to let her have this one!**

**ccgnme- Thanks! I always try and make her fit into the storyline as much as I can!**

**Chapter name borrowed from Margaret Becker.**

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE- MAY THIS JOURNEY

"I don't have a choice, Dean. If I don't go, our friends will die."

The tension in the room was almost tangible.

"Dad, the demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family. The gun is all we've got, you can't just hand it over," Sam objected.

"Who said anything about handing it over?" John scoffed. "Look, besides us and a coupla vampires, no one's really seen the gun."

"So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?" Dean demanded.

"Antique store," John corrected.

Dean was incredulous. "You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

John sighed. "Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Yeah, but for how long?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "What happens when she figures it out?"

"I just…" John passed a hand over his face. "I just need to buy a few hours, that's all."

Sam glared at him. "You mean for us. You want us to stay here, and kill this demon ourselves?"

John was weary. "No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school; I want Dean to have a home. I want….I want Mary alive."

In that moment, I could see exactly what it had cost the Winchesters to find the demon.

~Supernatural~

We sat in the Impala in front of Monica's house.

I was nervous and edgy, and I could not take my eyes away from the Colt that lay between Dean and Sam.

"Maybe we could tell 'em it was a gas leak," Sam suggested. "Might get 'em out of the house for a few hours."

"Yeah, and how many times has that actually worked for us?" Dean looked doubtful.

"Yeah."

Sam thought some more. "We could always tell 'em the truth."

They looked at each other for a long moment.

"Nah," they said in unison.

"I know, I know," Sam huffed. "I just….with what's coming for these folks…."

"Sam, we only got one move and you know it, all right? We gotta wait for that demon to show itself and then we get it before it gets them."

Dean was grim.

We looked at the house for a while.

"I wonder how Dad's doing," Sam pursed his lips.

Dean glared at the deserted street. "I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up."

Sam looked away.

"I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up."

We kept our eyes on the house.

~Supernatural~

"This is weird," Sam finally broke the long silence.

"What?" Dean swung his head around.

"After all of these years, we're finally here," Sam exhaled heavily. "It doesn't seem real."

Dean grunted. "We just gotta keep our heads and do our job, like always."

"Yeah, but this isn't like always," Sam reminded him.

"True," Dean conceded.

"Dean…" Sam hesitated. "Ah…. I wanna thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything," Sam sighed. "You've always had my back, you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And, ah… I don't know, I just wanted to let you know, just in case-"

Uneasiness set in at once.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean cut him off abruptly. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?" Sam glanced at him quizzically.

Dean kicked the seat. "I don't wanna hear that freaking speech, man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not you, not me, not the kid, and definitely not that family. Except that demon. "

"That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?"

~Supernatural~

Dean held the phone to his ear.

"Dad's not answering."

"Maybe Meg was late," Sam offered weakly. "Maybe cell reception's bad."

I don't think any of us really believed it.

The radio started chattering with static.

"Dean, wait," Sam cautioned. "Listen."

I rolled the dial on the radio, hearing more static come and go.

The wind picked up and the lights in the house flickered.

"It's coming."

We jumped out of the car.

~Supernatural~

"Get out of my house!" Holden roared, grappling with Dean furiously.

"Please, please," Sam pleaded. "Mr. Holden, please."

Dean easily took control, swinging him against the wall, holding his bat across Holden's throat.

"Be quiet and listen to me," Dean commanded sharply. "Listen. We are trying to help you."

Monica's worried voice drifted down the stairs.

"Charlie? Is everything okay?"

"Monica, get the baby!" Holden yelled.

"No!" Sam said at the same time. "Don't go in the nursery!"

"You stay away from her!" He shouted, struggling to get away.

Dean backhanded him, knocking Holden unconscious, and put him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

I ran up the stairs, ignoring their shouts of warning, crashing inside the nursery.

It was exactly the scene of my vision.

Monica was pushed up onto the wall, and the yellow-eyed figure stared at me with it's lamp-like gaze.

I shivered.

The pure malevolence I sensed was staggering.

Sam raced in, raised the Colt and pulled the trigger.

The demon disappeared into smoke.

Monica screamed, falling to the floor.

"Where the hell did it go?" Sam spun around in the room.

Monica stood, trying to get to the cot, but was caught by Sam.

"My baby!"

"No, wait!" Sam refused to let go.

"MY BABY!" She fought Sam fiercely.

I snapped into action, running to the cot.

"Take her and go!" I told Sam.

"Rosie!"

"Come on," Sam dragged her out of the room.

I quickly wrapped the blankets around Rosie as the cot exploded into flame.

I ran out of the nursery.

~Supernatural~

The nursery window shattered outward, flames shooting out.

Monica, Sam and I tripped out of the doorway, coughing hard.

Holden staggered up from where he was lying on the grass, glaring at Dean.

"You get away from my family."

"No, Charlie, don't," Monica began to cry. "They saved us."

I held out Rosie to her, and Monica took her gratefully.

"Thank you," She told us as Holden put an arm around her.

Dean grabbed my arm.

"Don't you _dare_," He scowled at me. "Do that ever again."

Dean held on a little longer, then let go.

We turned to the burning house.

The demon was silhouetted in the flaming nursery, standing stock-still.

Sam started back inside. "It's still there!"

We both grabbed him.

"Sam, no!" I held on with difficulty.

He writhed in our grip. "Let me go! It's inside, it's still there!"

"No!" Dean had no trouble stopping him. "It's burning to the ground, it's suicide!"

"I don't care!" Sam yelled.

"I do!" Dean shook him hard.

We watched as the fire rose and the demon disappeared.

~Supernatural~

Dean paced the room, listening to John's phone ring.

Suddenly, I could hear someone on the line.

But it was not John who answered.

"You guys really screwed up this time," Meg's tone was sleek and satisfied.

"Where the hell is he?" Dean crushed the phone in his grip angrily.

Meg's voice was sunny and light.

"Sweetheart, you're never going to see John ever again."


	46. Where The Devil Won't Stay

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Garideth- Things are almost about to finish! I'm so happy I got this done!**

**ccgnme- Thank you!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! ;)**

**AngelicScream- LOL, thank you! **

**I decided to let Castiel have another chapter to himself!**

**Little bit of Latin in this, **_**mea fida lectore!**_

**Chapter name borrowed from the Drive-By Truckers.**

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX- WHERE THE DEVIL WON'T STAY

I wanted to help.

I'd heard her call.

Azazel was on the move, and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it.

_Stand by, Castiel, you cannot intervene yet. This must take place._

My orders were clear.

I didn't like it.

It felt…. odd, somehow, to hear Odette call for me, knowing I could not help her.

Knowing I would not help her.

It bothered me.

That, in itself, was cause for alarm.

I didn't understand it.

I did not _like_ it.

The sensation was…. disconcerting.

Uncomfortable.

How was I to define it?

It was almost painful, settled as it was in the pit of my stomach.

I didn't know what it meant.

I was surprised when my vessel woke slightly, as if tired of my musings.

_It's called worry_, Jimmy Novak supplied sleepily.

_You're worrying about her_.

He lapsed back into his slumber.

Worry.

At times like these, I wished I were back in heaven.

Back home.

Earth confused me.

_Humanity_ confused me.

In the year I'd spent here, I'd learnt to appreciate the beauty it possessed, but it wasn't the same.

Heaven was clear-cut and simple.

One close-knit family, bound together by our Father's will.

Earth was…

Earth was baffling.

The sheer complexity of emotions one insignificant human could possess was perhaps the most intriguing.

Every human's psyche was different.

Odette's core was filled with guilt and grief.

It was so deep in her soul, I was beginning to think it would never go.

It knew how to give, and love, almost limitlessly.

Dean's was perhaps even more perplexing.

His was guarded, stubborn, suspicious.

Dean never let anyone in easily.

And yet, all of that simply seemed to disappear when it came to his brother.

Loyalty was what flared strongest in Dean.

Sam's was more trusting, more open.

He did not hesitate to have faith.

But it was Sam, not Dean, who was angry.

Angry and grieving.

The twin elements that defined his soul.

I shook my head, sitting on the cold marble floor.

A memory of Gabriel slipped unbidden into my mind.

_You think too much, little rook._

An odd swell of sadness swept over me.

Heaven had been strangely empty since Gabriel had left.

I thought of the past year with the three humans I had to guard.

Odette trusted me.

Sam still had his inhibitions, but it had lessened over time.

Dean had remained hostile.

Strange that it had only reduced when I'd saved Sam.

I fell to wondering what was so special about them.

I had not been told why I'd been sent here.

I did not know when I would return.

If I would return.

I had been puzzled when I received my instructions.

I was the youngest in my garrison, one of the youngest in heaven itself.

Barely out of my fledgling years.

Two thousand years were naught in front of my elders.

Anna would have been the best choice, but Anna…..

I did not wish to recall her departure.

All of heaven had felt the absence of power when Anna ripped her Grace out.

One of the best garrison leaders we'd ever had.

To Earth, all she'd been was a streaking meteor.

Even Uriel would have been the better choice, but it had been me.

Perhaps foolishly, I had questioned my superior on my orders.

_This is how you'll grow, Castiel_, had been my only reply.

Michael himself, what little I remembered of him, had approved.

_You were born for Earth, fledgling_.

I did not understand what he had meant.

Lucifer, I shuddered as I recalled him, had given me his own warning, before being cast out.

_Love will be your doom, brother_.

Gabriel, before he'd run, had only left me a message.

_Cavendum puella_.

I could not comprehend it.

Would I ever get my answer?

Lucifer's words perturbed me the most.

Angels were incapable of feeling.

Obedience was our only task.

What could he possibly mean by it?

The Morning Star had always been an enigma, opening up to only Michael.

This, however, made me uneasy.

Lucifer had the gift of foresight, and no warning from him was ever wrong.

What was his intention?

Who was it that would seal my fate?

My answer would come.

I did not know it yet, but it would destroy me.


	47. This Profane Finality

**Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**XKaterinaNightingaleX- Thank you! Yeah, I know, but this is extra long, though!**

**ccgnme- Thanks! I love writing in his point of view!**

**Garideth- Technically, Michael's approval is a warning in itself… *evil smirk***

**Well, this is it, guys, the final chapter!**

**Keep your eyes peeled for 'The Descent', the sequel to this!**

**It should be up tomorrow!**

**Chapter name borrowed from Sopor Aeternus.**

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN- THIS PROFANE FINALITY

"You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask," Meg sneered, reclining easily on the chair, looking at the pentacle on the ceiling amusedly.

I watched Bobby curiously as he came in with a large canister of salt.

One of Dean and Sam's few friends, it seemed.

"I salted the door and windows," Bobby grunted. "If there are any demons out there- they ain't getting in."

Dean nodded and stood up, moving around us to stand in front of Meg.

"Where's our father, Meg?"

She smirked. "You didn't ask very nice."

Dean gritted his teeth. "Where's our father, bitch?"

"Jeez," Meg turned her head to one side. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

She tapped a finger against her cheek. "Oh, wait, I forgot, you don't."

Dean lunged at Meg.

"You think this is a frigging game?" He yelled. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

She smiled widely. "He died screaming. I killed him myself."

Dean snapped, hitting her across the face.

"That's kind of a turn on-" Meg chuckled. "You hitting a girl."

I turned away, unsettled.

Dean was frightening me.

"You're no girl," He set his jaw.

Bobby moved into the next room. "Dean."

We followed, and Sam faced Dean.

"You okay?" He looked at him worriedly.

Dean ignored him. "She's lying. He's not dead."

Bobby huffed. "Dean, you got to be careful with her. Don't hurt her."

"Why?" Dean growled.

"Because she really is a girl, that's why," Bobby sighed, tugging at his beard.

"What are you talking about?" Sam cocked an eyebrow.

"She's possessed," Bobby shook his head. "That's a human possessed by a demon. Can't you tell?"

I was horrified. "Are you trying to tell me there's an innocent girl trapped in there somewhere?"

Bobby just nodded.

Dean looked at Meg, who stared back at him.

"That's actually good news."

~Supernatural~

Sam leafed through the book, looking for the ritual.

He glanced at us, walking over to Meg.

She smiled sweetly. "Are you gonna read me a story?"

"Something like that," Dean stared at her icily. "Hit it, Sam."

"Regna terrae, cantate deo, psallite domino," Sam continued in Latin.

"An exorcism?" Meg scoffed. "Are you serious?"

Dean grinned.

"Oh, we're going for it, baby- head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards."

I shifted uneasily, backing into the furthest corner from Meg.

"Tribuite virtutem deo," Sam watched Meg.

Meg flinched in pain.

She looked balefully at Sam.

"I'm gonna kill you," She hissed, turning to Dean. "I'm gonna rip the bones from your body."

Dean smirked. "Nah, you're gonna burn in hell. Unless you tell us where Dad is."

Meg bared her teeth in a half-smile, half-snarl.

"Well," Dean shrugged. "At least you'll get a nice tan."

He glanced up at Sam.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica….."

The chair rattled from side to side in the circle, and Meg shook violently as Sam spoke.

Venom dripped from every syllable that came out of her mouth.

"He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. That's when I slit his throat."

Sam started reading again, and Dean leant down to her.

"Ergo…."

Dean's voice was eerily calm. "For your sake, I hope you're lying. 'Cause if it's true, I swear to God, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!"

"Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae."

As Sam spoke, a wind blew through the room.

"Hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei. Contremisce et effuge. Invocato a nobis sancto et terribile nomine. Quem inferi tremunt..."

Meg shuddered again.

"Where is he?"

"You just won't take dead for an answer, will you?"

"Where is he?" Dean demanded.

"Dead!" Meg yelled.

"No, he's not!" Dean shouted. "He's not dead! He can't be!"

I pulled him slightly away from Meg.

Dean was upset, and Sam was eying him concernedly.

He shook me off, snapping at Sam.

"What are you looking at? Keep reading!"

"Ab insidis diaboli, libera nos, domine. Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias, libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."

The chair started sliding around the circle again.

"Ut inimicos sanctae ecclesiae humiliare digneris, to rogamus audi..."

"He will be!" Meg screamed.

"Wait!" Dean flung out an arm to stop Sam. "What?"

"He's not dead," Meg curled her lip.

"But he will be after what we do to him."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Dean paced the floor.

"You don't," Meg was smug.

"Sam!"

"A building, okay?" Meg spoke in a rush. "A building in Jefferson City."

"Missouri? Where?" Dean shook her. "An address!"

"I don't know!" She panted, eyes crossed to slits.

"And the demon- the one we're looking for- where is it?"

"I don't know!" Meg's tone was close to a howl. "I swear! That's everything. That's all I know."

Dean clenched his fists. "Finish it."

"What?" Meg's eyes flashed to Dean. "I told you the truth!"

His expression did not change. "I don't care."

"You son of a bitch," Meg snarled. "You promised!"

Dean flexed his jaw. "I lied! Sam?"

Sam did not speak.

Dean walked by him. "Sam! Read!"

"Maybe we can still use her," Sam said quietly. "Find out where the demon is."

"She doesn't know," Dean forced out the words.

"She lied," Sam returned.

"Sam, there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there." Dean looked at him pointedly. "We've got to help her."

Bobby came up to us, then. "You're gonna kill her."

"What?"

"You said she fell from a building," Bobby slammed his hand down on the table. "That girl's body is broken, the only thing keeping her alive is that demon."

"You exorcise it- that girl is going to die."

"Listen to me, both of you," Dean glared at us. "We are not gonna leave her like that."

Dean was scaring me, but I stood my ground.

This was going too far.

"She's a human being, Dean," I pleaded. "You can't just kill her, you-"

I flinched away from his livid expression as he pushed me aside, losing my nerve.

Sam's hands curled around my arms, pulling me away from Dean.

A brief flash of guilt passed over Dean's face, but it was gone so fast I was sure I imagined it.

"We're gonna put her out of her misery," Dean huffed. "Sam, finish it."

Sam paused, looking from me to Dean.

"Finish it," Dean hissed.

Sam took a breath and kept going.

"Dominicos sanctae ecclesiae, terogamus audi nos, terribilis deus do sanctuario suo deus israhel. Ipse tribuite virtutem et fortitudinem plebi suae, benedictus deus, gloria patri..."

Meg threw her head back and screamed.

The demon left through her mouth in a black cloud, billowing up to the ceiling, finally disappearing.

Meg leaned forward, a thin trickle of blood dripping from her mouth.

We stood there, unsure.

Was it really over?

Meg slowly lifted her head.

"She's still alive," I breathed out in shock.

"Call 911," Dean told Bobby.

I dashed out of the room, gathering an armful of blankets, hooking a jug of water on my free arm.

Dean and Sam untied Meg.

"Thank you," She spoke in a choked whisper.

"Ssh, shh," I spoke quietly. "Just take it easy, all right?"

"Come on, let's get her down," Dean said.

They lifted Meg from the chair.

I distinctly heard the sound of bones snapping.

Meg screamed in pain.

Dean and Sam lowered her to the floor.

"Sorry, sorry," Sam tried to be gentle. "I got you. It's okay."

She strained to speak. "A year."

"What?"

"It's been a year," A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Ssh," I cautioned her. "Just take it easy."

"I've been awake for some of it," Meg coughed. "I couldn't move my own body. The things I did- it's a nightmare."

"Was it telling us the truth about Dad?"

"Dean!" I looked at him in disbelief.

"We need to know," Dean fixed me with a look.

"Yes," Meg closed her eyes. "But it wants….. you to know….that….they want you to come for him."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If Dad's still alive, none of that matters."

I held her head up, attempting to make her drink.

"Where is the demon we're looking for?" Sam asked softly.

"Not there," Meg spat out blood. "Other ones. Awful ones."

"Where are they keeping him?" Dean looked at her searchingly.

Meg's breaths were harsh and labored.

"By the river. Sunrise."

"'Sunrise.' What does that mean? What does that mean?"

Dean received no answer.

Meg's eyes rolled back in her head.

I stared at her still form for a second, then backed away from Dean.

"She's dead," I blinked hard. "I told you not to do it!"

I ran from the room.

~Supernatural~

"Stay here, all right?" Sam pinned me with his gaze. "If we're not back by tomorrow, call Bobby. He'll take care of you."

Dean slapped down the number on the table in the hotel room.

They left.

I buried my head in my hands.

I had a bad feeling they were going to their deaths.

But how was I to stop them?

Time passed.

My unease grew as night fell.

I was just about to throw caution to the winds and find them, when the door banged open.

Dean and Sam struggled inside, supporting an obviously injured John.

I leapt up at once as John sat down heavily on the bed.

Dean seemed unharmed, but Sam's face was a mess, bloody and bruised.

I searched for a cold compress, ignoring Sam's attempts to shake me off as I pressed it against his cheek.

"Thanks," He smiled warmly.

Dean lined the doors and windows with salt, watching carefully as John left the room.

"He just needs a little rest, that's all," Dean answered Sam's unspoken question.

He looked at the compress in my hand. "How are you?"

"I'll survive," Sam winced as I increased the pressure.

He looked at Dean uncertainly.

"Hey, uh….. Dean, you, um…. you saved my life back there."

I looked up sharply.

That explained the cuts.

Dean snorted. "Guess you're glad I brought the gun, huh?"

Sam glowered at him. "Man, I'm trying to thank you here."

Dean's lip pulled up a little. "You're welcome."

Sam walked across the room.

"Hey, Sam?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"You know the guy I shot? There was a person in there."

Sam sighed. "You didn't have a choice, Dean."

"Yeah, I know," Dean looked at me strangely, probably remembering what I'd said to him earlier. "That's not what bothers me."

"Then what does?"

"Killing that guy, killing Meg. I didn't hesitate, I didn't even flinch. For you or Dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill…. It scares me sometimes."

Sam didn't know what to say.

"It shouldn't," John re-entered the room. "You did good."

"You're not mad?" Dean's tone was incredulous.

"For what?"

"Using a bullet," Dean waited.

"Mad?" John laughed. "I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you- you watch out for this family. Always have."

It clearly wasn't what Dean was expecting.

"Thanks."

The wind suddenly picked up, and the lights in the room started flickering.

"It found us," John tensed. "It's here."

"The demon?" Sam whirled around towards the window.

"Sam, salt lines."

"Dean already did it," Sam gestured toward the door.

"Well, check it, okay?"

"Okay."

Sam left the room.

"Dean, you got the gun?"

"Yeah," Dean pulled it out of his jeans.

"Give it to me."

Dean paused. "Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared."

"This is me." John held out his hand. "I won't miss. Now, the gun, hurry."

Dean hesitated and looked down at the gun.

"Son, please."

Dean started backing up a few steps, tugging me along.

I looked at him in confusion.

"Give me the gun," John frowned. "What are you doing, Dean?"

"He'd be furious," Dean shot John a calculating look.

"What?"

"That I wasted a bullet," Dean continued. "He wouldn't be proud of me, he'd tear me a new one."

Dean raised the gun and cocked it at him.

"You're not my dad."

~Supernatural~

I looked back and forth.

"Dean, it's me," John pleaded.

"I know my dad better than anyone," Dean took a deep breath. "And you ain't him."

"What the hell's gotten into you?" John demanded.

"I could ask you the same thing," Dean aimed the gun at him.

"Stay back."

Sam walked into the room, freezing in his tracks as he saw Dean with the gun.

"Dean? What the hell's going on?"

"Your brother's lost his mind," John kept his eyes on the gun.

"He's not Dad," Dean pushed me behind him.

"What?"

"I think he's possessed," Dean circled John.

"I think he's been possessed since we rescued him."

"Don't listen to him, Sammy," John looked at him.

Sam ignored him. "Dean, how do you know?"

Dean was fighting back tears.

I was shocked.

Dean never cried.

"He's…. he's different."

"You know, we don't have time for this," John moved slightly to the left.

"Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you've gotta trust me."

Sam tore his gaze from one to the other.

Dean glanced at him, but did not say a word.

"Sam?"

"No." Sam moved over to stand by Dean's side.

After a moment's pause, so did I.

I trusted Dean implicitly.

John stared at us impassively.

"Fine. You're all so sure, go ahead. Kill me."

He looked down.

The gun shook in Dean's hand.

He couldn't pull the trigger.

"I thought so."

He looked back up.

John's eyes were yellow.

Sam lunged, but he sent us crashing against the wall.

The Colt clattered to the floor.

He picked it up.

"What a pain in the ass this thing's been," The demon glanced at it, satisfied.

"It's you, isn't it? We've been looking for you for a long time." Sam's eyes burned with loathing.

"Well," It shrugged. "You found me."

"But the holy water?"

It scoffed. "You think something like that's gonna work on me?"

I struggled against his control, but I could not move.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Sam fought against him, but, like me, he failed.

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick," The demon snickered.

"In fact," He put the gun down on a table.

"Here. Move the gun to you, psychic boy."

It did not move.

He walked over to me, gripping my chin in his hands.

"But, then again, I've forgotten you, haven't I?" He held me tighter. "You could do it, too. You're probably going to become even stronger, from what my little birdies tell me."

I blinked at him, trying to make the gun come to me.

It was motionless.

"Well, this is fun," It moved to Dean.

"I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this…." He sighed.

"This is worth the wait."

Dean struggled, but was still pinned to the wall.

It looked over to him.

"Your dad- he's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meatsuit. He says 'hi', by the way."

He grinned manically.

"He's gonna tear you apart. Daddy is going to taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go," Dean spat. "Or I swear to God-"

"What?" The demon started laughing.

"What are you and God gonna do? You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice."

He came over to Dean.

"You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

"Who, Meg?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"The one in the alley? That was my boy, you understand?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean kicked against the wall futilely.

"What? You're the only one who can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?"

It smiled.

"Oh, wait, I already did. Still, two wrongs don't make a right."

"You son of a bitch," Dean's eyes smoldered with hate.

"I wanna know why," Sam clenched his teeth. "Why'd you do it?"

He turned to Sam.

"You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?"

"Yeah."

He turned back to Dean. "You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him."

He backed up towards Sam.

"Been shopping for rings and everything."

It faced Sam, finally. "You want to know why? Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what?"

"My plans for you, Sammy. You… and all the children like you."

He suddenly snapped back to me.

"And I've forgotten you again, haven't I? Personally, you're too pure for my taste."

He stroked my cheek.

"Makes me feel sick. But you could be extremely useful, if you chose our side. After all, you've more potential than Sammy has, now don't you?"

"Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh?"

Dean tipped his head back.

It went to him.

"Funny, but that's all part of your M.O, isn't it? Masks all the nasty pain, masks the truth."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean glared at him. "What's that?"

The demon put it's head on one side. "

You know, you fight and fight for this family, but the truth is, they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam- he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you. "

Dean sneered tightly.

"I bet you're real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh, wait, I forgot. I wasted 'em."

Dean smiled.

The demon stepped back, putting his head down.

When he lifted his head, Dean yelled in pain.

"Dean!" I was horrified.

"Dean! No!"

Sam couldn't move as the blood gushed down Dean's chest.

"Dad!" Dean's voice cracked. "Dad, don't you let it kill me!"

My eyes unfocused.

Dean was about to die, and I couldn't let that happen.

There was a strange ringing in my ears.

The table crashed against John.

There was utter silence.

It seemed unaffected as it walked over to me.

"Look at that, I was right," He fondled my hair. "You _are_ stronger. You know, those demons that followed you, those were mine. That gas leak? No accident."

I stared at him, refusing to believe it.

"No."

"Oh, yes," He grinned at me. "That boy you were so fond of? I was responsible for that too."

No.

This meant everything was my fault.

Rage ran through me.

"You bastard."

The sudden urge to make him hurt like I was flooded through me.

"Your family's gone too."

I knew what was coming now.

I screamed as agony like I'd never known attacked me, my throat stretched bloody and raw.

Blood trickled out of my mouth.

"Odette! No!"

I could not answer either of their shouts.

"Dad!"

The demon turned to Dean again.

He screamed.

"Dean! No!"

Blood ran freely down both of us.

I didn't know who was shouting louder, Sam or me.

"Dad, please." Dean passed out.

"Dean!"

"Stop," John whispered.

We suddenly fell to the ground.

"Stop it."

Sam dived for the gun, grabbing it as John turned to him, eyes once again yellow.

Sam aimed it at him.

"You kill me, you kill Daddy," He sneered.

"I know." Sam shot it in the leg.

Both of them fell down.

Sam ran to Dean, lifting me up along the way.

"Dean? Odette?"

We were both too weak to answer him.

"Oh God, you've lost a lot of blood."

Dean was stronger.

"Where's Dad?"

"He's right here. He's right here, Dean."

"Go check on him."

"Dean." Sam did not move.

"Go check on him!" Dean repeated.

Sam got up.

John was motionless on the floor.

"Dad? Dad?"

John suddenly looked up. "Sammy! It's still alive. It's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me in the heart, son!"

Sam aimed the gun at John.

"Do it now!"

Dean tried to move. "Sam, don't you do it."

His eyes were wet again. "Don't you do it!"

"You've gotta hurry!"

There was no mistaking the urgency in John's voice.

"I can't hold on much longer! You shoot me! Shoot me, son, I'm begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!"

"Sam, no," Dean pleaded.

"You do this!" John yelled. "Sammy! Sam!"

The demon suddenly left John, black expelling from his mouth into the floor.

John stared at Sam accusingly.

~Supernatural~

I tried to muffle my moan of pain as Sam drove the Impala, John by his side.

Dean was slumped next to me.

"Kid?" He blearily opened an eye.

"Fine," I managed to choke out.

He was hurt far worse than I was.

"Look, just hold on, alright?" Sam stepped down on the pedal.

"The hospital's just ten minutes away."

"I'm surprised at you, Sammy," John kicked his seat with his good leg.

"Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing the demon comes first- before me, before everything."

Sam looked in the rear view mirror at us.

"No, sir. Not before everything. Look, we've still got the Colt. We have one bullet left. We just have to-"

An eighteen-wheeler suddenly slammed into the Impala at full speed, sending us careening sideways.

I saw the driver behind the wheel.

His eyes were black.

My last thought was of Castiel.

Not even he could help us now.


End file.
